Greater Than The Sum
by MP - Mary Contrary
Summary: An AU story, exploring the shadowy forces behind Terra Prime and the impact of Elizabeth's survival on T'Pol and Trip.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: _

_So here we go...taking my shot at a purely Trip/T'Pol fic. I'll just be tossing what I've got out there for now and I'll get back to it as soon as I can. Unfortunately that may mean as much as a week or more, with my step-son's starting school again Monday. And all the preparations that this requires. But not to worry. I'm obsessive compulsive just enough that I'll work on this story every passing chance that I can wheedle out of the universe. Wouldn't be surprised I had another chapter I just had to throw down at, say, 1:00am tomorrow or something._

_As we go along, as always, please don't spare the red pen. I may be slow to respond to constructive criticism, as my writing and my muse resist all but the most stringent efforts at control. But I do learn eventually. If beaten over the head with it enough over a sufficient period of time...so by all means, swing away._

_And, again as always, I hope for nothing more than your entertainment. That alone would make the effort well worth it...if I didn't just love this stuff anyway. ;)_

_

* * *

_

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

"It appears my…initial prognosis was incorrect." Phlox said, reluctantly. At their look, he explained. "It's genetic. The Vulcan and Human DNA…aren't compatible."

Tucker looked back down at the child..._his daughter_...overwhelmed. It didn't seem real.

"Is there anything you can do?" He asked.

"I'm attempting to stabilize her nucleotides." Phlox explained. "But there's never been a child like her."

T'Pol gazed at the infant. "Her name is Elizabeth."

Phlox looked on for a moment, reluctant to say anything further. Nothing about the scene before him invited intrusion. As much as he wished to comfort them both…he simply nodded lightly and left them alone.

Beside her, T'Pol sensed Commander Tucker's breath begin to hitch. At a slow glance she could see that he struggled, exhaling sharply in an effort to defer the inevitable emotional display. She assumed, largely for _her _benefit…

Without thinking she extended the back of her hand to his, where it rested there against the side of the incubator. Allowing the first two fingers of her hand to touch, they began to caress him tenderly...

The entire process fascinated her immediately. It was almost wholly unconscious and she could _feel _the comfort flowing through her touch. Her index and middle digit locked together as one, becoming a singular entity. An independent, willful creature, moving with a sensual awareness she'd witnessed only in her most secret imaginings.

His hand moved then…and she was concerned at first he would pull away, finding the behavior as unseemly and…_strange _as she did. But he appeared to accept it, his own two fingers extended and locked, again ostensibly of their own accord. So she continued to observe.

The symbolism was astounding. And very clear, she noted. The two independent entities embraced and caressed one another, seeking and sending comfort. And even to her passive observance they seemed to console one another. Summoning serenity from nowhere, taking and sharing. Overflowing, the excess cascading softly, almost imperceptibly, down and down. Delicately flowing through her grief, breaking at last upon her _katra_.

And there, like cool air on burning skin…water washing over parched sand…it was received, welcomed. Healing and reviving, provoking luminescence again where there had been only darkness…

Until a mild sigh of relief escaped her, entirely despite herself. And she found herself coming undone.

The mating dance, literally at hand, calling her forth to join in…to participate…her _katra _stirring…acknowledging the promise…moving to accept…

Such subtle, significant power, to generate such soothing. As much as the two mated creatures could consume for themselves…and more so, enough to touch even _her_…and, she supposed, Commander Tucker as well.

Together, becoming greater than the sum of both.

"I'm sorry." Phlox said softly, interrupting.

She jerked her attention…and her hand…away. Phlox had approached unheard, scanner in one hand. And…some unidentifiable creature in the other.

"I must…" He said, indicating he required access to Elizabeth.

T'Pol nodded. "Of course."

Suppressing her instinctive need to protect the infant, she rose and stepped aside. Trip followed after a moment, still dazed…though now, she suspected, less overwhelmed and more confused by what had just occurred.

She watched as Phlox worked, studiously ignoring Trip's questioning gaze. She put the matter firmly aside for now, irrelevant in light of what truly mattered at the moment.

Her…daughter was dying.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her grief returned, finding nothing impeding its assault any longer, and she was forced to divide her attention again. Suffering the necessity of suppressing it, else it would surely overcome her completely. She was tempted to succumb, of course, as there seemed no obvious logic in maintaining composure. Beyond the principle itself.

And Trip's sudden need…threatening to consume her…

Her utter, consistent failure with him. A mockery, deriding any prospect of conciliation with their bond.

There was nothing else she could do. About any of it…

She was suddenly aware Phlox had frozen. Her awareness sharpened instantly. Something was _wrong_…

_No. No, not yet. I am not prepared_…

"Doctor…?" She inquired, anxiously.

No response. With a quick glance to her side, she found Trip still staring at her. She turned and stepped forward to _demand_…but was struck by the oddity of what she'd just seen…

Glancing back again she saw that Trip was still staring…at the empty space where she'd stood a moment before.

He wasn't moving. At all.

Phlox as well, she noted with growing alarm. Both of them, frozen in place. Even the slimy creature in the doctor's hand…

Neither of the two men…were _breathing_.

He attention snapped to Elizabeth…she was unmoving as well…fixed solidly in place, gazing curiously at the IDIC she'd hung from the incubator earlier. With an anxious exhale of breath she darted there, examining her desperately…looking for some sign…

But a golden glow was forming to her right…growing in intensity, already beginning to cast shadows here and there. T'Pol crouched protectively over her child, watching it warily as it began to coalesce above the floor on the far side of the room. Taking shape, forming…

She leapt for the comm nearby, jabbing at it. "Security to…!"

But the button was _stuck_! She stabbed at it again, insistent.

"_There is no need for alarm_." A voice spoke behind her. In Vulcan.

She turned carefully, her eyes wide.

He wore dark brown robes, embroidered unpretentiously at the shoulder with the mark of…she didn't recognize the province or clan. His hair was dark, modestly cut, flecked with gray around…decidedly Vulcan ears. A subtle smile at his lips, just enough to suggest familiarity without an unacceptable degree of discourtesy.

But he didn't _smell _Vulcan. She couldn't detect his presence by scent at all.

"_This is only a form_." The man said, inclining his head slightly in deference. Adopting now a more proper reticence.

"Who are you?" She demanded immediately. He was only six meters away…if she was quick, she could strike…

"_Be calm_." He suggested, gesturing slightly, with a remarkable degree of grace.

And she was suddenly calm.

"An odd name." She noted, passively.

The man's subtle smile returned. "_A unique trait, the humor you display. The result of your bond, as you are aware_."

T'Pol regarded the man, without concern. She decided that she would discover his intentions before taking any further action.

"_What do you require?" _She asked, switching comfortably to Vulcan. It seemed appropriate. And helped her to remain calm, which was important.

"_An agreement." _The man offered. "_Will you hear my proposal?" _

"_Of course_." She nodded.

He moved to the incubator, making no sound as he approached. Even the swish of his robes remained conspicuously absent. As she observed him looking down on the child, she sensed his subtle psychic projection of appreciation. Very polite and proper behavior, she noted. Something she would otherwise welcome.

But this man was not Vulcan. Perhaps he was not even real…

"_Beautiful_." He observed. "_As always_."

T'Pol waited patiently. And calmly.

"_We intend an experiment of sorts_." The man said, still gazing serenely down on Elizabeth's still form. "_But you require understanding before you can offer an acceptable consent_."

"_You presume that I will agree_?" She asked.

"_We do_." He nodded.

He folded his arms before him elegantly, passing his hands into the sleeves of his robe. Adopting a proper stance of detached consideration.

She was reminded of her father, she vaguely realized.

"_You are aware of the theory of relative state function, suggesting the simultaneous existence of all possible universes_." He said.

T'Pol nodded slightly. Of course. "_The theory suggests a multi-verse, with every possible quantum outcome realized_."

Adopting a proper detachment herself, she folded her hands at the small of her back. A classic, properly Vulcan, oratory pose. "_Essentially an infinite number of universes existing relative to one another, to accommodate every possibility, forever forming new universes each instant to accommodate every possibility as it occurs. Universes which would themselves divide at each possible point of divergence immediately thereafter…and so forth, infinitely."_

"_A primitive understanding of existence, but accurate enough_." He acknowledged. _"With each passing moment an infinite number of new universes are born, proceeding forward through time, created by nothing more than the random outcome of each single quantum event."_

"_And so all possibilities currently exist, if not in this universe then in another." _He continued_. "Some older universes differ profoundly, perhaps imploding or exploding at this very moment. More recently created universes may differ more subtly, with perhaps the positions of star clusters having relocated significantly from those of this universe. In some, merely the political nature of a handful of sentient societies display discordance from the universe you know."_

The man turned to regard her patiently. "_In younger universes the asymmetry is practically negligible. There is one in which the clasp on your left shoe has already come undone. In another, not for several minutes. With this being the only difference between the universe you and I currently occupy and an infinite number of otherwise identical existences."_

He returned his attention to Elizabeth. "_An aspect of this that you have not yet discovered is that the original katra of each sentient being remains constant throughout this process. It does not alter or divide. Rather, it remains intact, with new katra being born from it to follow new branches of existence as they occur_."

This piqued T'Pol's interest. "_How can this be known? Some method of observing and identifying the katra would be required. As well as a method of tracking a specific one through infinity."_

The man's very subtle smile returned. "_We have this ability. The details are irrelevant here. What is important to understand is this: At each moment an infinite number of new universes are born. And within each of them entirely new sentient beings, unaware they have only immediately come into existence. With them, of course, a new katra, else they would not retain sentience." _

"_But always there is, at that original moment of individual conception, the underived first katra_."

The man gestured gracefully at Trip.

"_To illustrate…were I to allow this moment to progress, somewhere in this universe an event would immediately occur. The universe would then split, creating a number of universes, one for each possible outcome of that event. For the vast majority of those universes, Commander Tucker would continue to exist. And so for each of them, the individual Commander Tucker that existed would require a new katra in order to remain sentient. One identical to that which exists now, at this moment. And so we would observe that a new one is born for each instance of Commander Tucker_."

"_Except for one, in which the original katra simply continued to exist_."

T'Pol considered. "_One original katra, formed at conception, progressing through infinity, distinct in some manner from all those that branch away infinitely_."

He faced her again, directly. Still projecting both calm and comprehension.

"_That is correct_." He said simply. "_We intend to discover the source of this_."

T'Pol regard her daughter passively then, already intuiting the man's meaning here.

"_Elizabeth was conceived long ago. Relatively_." She said. "_It is therefore infinitely unlikely that the katra this Elizabeth possesses is the original_."

"_It is indeed the original. This is why I have taken this moment aside_." He said. "_So that you and I may agree, and so that the experiment may begin from this moment_."

"_To what end? Do you intend to observe her death_?" T'Pol inquired. Still calm, of course…but something about that caused her discomfort…

"_That is not necessary. Nor would it require your consent_." He informed her. "_We intend to retain this existence apart from all others from this point forward. No other universes will be allowed to branch away. And so this katra specifically will be maintained_."

Now T'Pol's false calm was fading away. Replaced with a desperate hope. "_Beyond the death that threatens her?"_

"_Beyond this particular death only_."

"Why?" She demanded. In English again, suddenly.

And as an afterthought…"And why have you released me from your influence now?" She asked.

"_This katra, the original, does not survive beyond this day_." He answered. "_And by preserving it past that point, allowing it to continue independently, we break continuity. This serves our purposes. I release you because your consent is required_."

T'Pol turned to consider Trip…still standing, frozen in place, across the room.

"_The offer falls to you alone_." He advised.

"It…is not mine alone to…" She said uncertainly.

"_There are reasons it must be so. As we must remove the current moment from existence once you have consented_."

She balked at that. "Why…?" She would remain unaware then. Unaware that her daughter would live.

"_It would interfere unnecessarily_." He explained.

She considered carefully. 'It would interfere', he'd said…which suggested interference would ruin the experiment. If they intended merely to observe…and no further interference was required beyond saving Elizabeth's life… saving it _today_…then this man, if he was a man, was essentially asking permission to spare her daughter's life.

One further question then…

"Why have you chosen Elizabeth?"

"_Our projections for an existence in which this original katra survives most aptly meet our requirements. There is nothing more_…"

"Then I agree." She declared.

A golden flash.

She blinked.

"T'Pol." Trip whispered, immediately to her left.

But she continued to ignore him, watching Phlox work in vain to save Elizabeth's life.

His frustration quickly became palpable…subsiding soon after as he resigned himself to the futility of provoking her interest. Something he'd grown accustomed to, she knew. As she knew she had only herself to blame for that.

But it didn't matter. It was, in the end, convenient.

Her daughter was dying. And she had nothing to offer him anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

_**'Last Call' **_**Bar and Grill**

**San Francisco, California**

**_(24 hours earlier)_**

Sally Granger ambled up to the bar, taking a seat at the first available stool with a bit of a huff. Two fingers flicked at the bartender, requesting something to alleviate her frustration. Soon, please, and thank you.

Damn Sterok. And damn the Captain while she was at it. She knew, she _knew_, Sterok was meeting his contact tonight. But he'd lost her in the crowd back on Fifth Street…_and _scrambled her tracer when he'd 'wandered' too close to the power relay station a block over. And so, because she didn't have backup, she'd hoofed it around the long way to get eyes on again…

Which she hadn't. And the tracer never came back on line either, even fifteen minutes later.

So, yeah. He'd dropped her.

Her own fault, of course. She'd leaned on him a little too hard yesterday. So _of course _he was paranoid, covering his tail. But, God, he'd _seriously _creeped her out…

"Hey, I know you from some place?" Someone slurred.

Sally checked to her right. A little overweight. Heavy duty jacket, dust on one shoulder. Needed a shave, mild scent of creosote. Steel toed boots, thick cotton pants. Callused hands, wedding ring, one beer too many. Construction.

She frowned a little. She hadn't even got her drink yet.

"Hope not." She replied.

_Yeah, okay. So, I'm a little bitchy right now._

"Jack Briggs." He said brightly. The alcohol on his breath wafted over to introduce itself as well. "I'm a cop. Maybe we met on the job?"

No, you're not, Jack. And come on, now. A cop? _Really?_

"Working a jump-out over on Sixth? " She asked, staring at the back of the bartender's head. Still waiting on that drink.

"Huh?" Jack said brightly.

"Are those fat ass construction workers over there _ever _going to clear the street?" She asked, turning her head to stare him down. "They've been sitting around scratching their butts and drinking coffee for two months now."

Jack looked a little off balance for a bit. But he recovered admirably.

"Huh?" He suggested.

"Well, I assumed you were undercover. The wedding ring can't be legit, if you're hitting on me." She said, with a nod at the hand he had wrapped around a beer bottle.

Her communicator chirped.

Dang, she was just getting in the mood…

So, okay, maybe that's for the best.

She answered quickly. "Granger."

"_Tell me you're not at home, soaking in a big bubble bath with a glass of wine, listening to something sexy on the wave."_

She snorted. "If that'll make you happy, Jimmy."

"_Well, that's a shame." _He said. _"If you were out shadowing Sterok like you were told specifically not to do it would actually be pretty handy right now."_

Sally sat up straight at that. "What's up?" She asked.

"_Red flag went up a few minutes ago_." He said. "_Fifth precinct PD. Ensign Sharon C. McAllister, Starfleet R&D. Picked up on a DWI. Arresting officer noticed the oddest thing spill out of her purse in all the excitement…_"

She sighed. Great.

"The tipsy Ensign taking her work home with her, Jim?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"_You got it. Two red-hashed, mirco-sealed data discs. And a portable decrypter that's probably three steps over her grade_."

Sally waved off the bartender, who was finally looking like he'd gotten around to that drink.

"Gee, thanks, Captain." She said, sarcastically.

"_Just trying to keep you out of trouble, sweet cheeks_."

"Call you there." Sally flipped the communicator closed, pocketing it, heading for the door.

A light smack on Romeo's shoulder as she passed.

"Mind the butt crack, Jack."

* * *

Sally tapped on the plastiglass to get the dispatcher's attention, her ID already up for inspection.

"Lieutenant Granger, Starfleet Intel." She announced through the speaker. "Ensign McAllister, DWI?"

The dispatcher barely spared her a glance, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the door to her left before reaching lazily over to buzz her in. A perfect model of diligent and efficient civil service.

She clipped her ID to the front of her jacket and proceeded through.

Beyond the door the hustle and bustle down the hall to the right led her to the office area. Everyone turned at least one eye her way, so she folded her hands at her back, her ID displayed prominently, standing at ease. She wasn't about to stumble around looking lost. And she figured she'd give these guys about five seconds to have _someone _front and center…

A detective halfway down the line of desks to the right was up and moving her way in three.

"Lieutenant Granger?" He asked.

She nodded.

"This way." He said, jerking his head toward the lift. "Ensign McAllister's cooling it down in the jail for now…"

"I'd like to see the gear first." Sally said easily.

"Uh…well, alright." The detective agreed. "Booking's just down the hall here. Come on."

* * *

Sally pulled the cheap plastic purse out of the shallow box, putting it aside before dumping the box on the table before her. The detective waited behind and to the right. In case she needed something.

Vehicle remote, _Perennial 'Cruiser'_, '51 model. Pack of chewing gum. Torn ticket stub, _"Helium Arts Festival"_, five months ago. McAllister liked jazz, it seemed.

She pulled her pocket PADD, turning to offer it to the detective. "Arrest report." She said succinctly, turning to the purse while he made himself busy with that. She dumped the purse over ended on the table without pause, causing a bit of clatter, before spreading it out evenly with one hand.

The two data discs were plucked out first, along with the thumb-sized decrypter. A DDX-14, definitely a little over Ensign McAllister's grade. She tossed that back in the pile but put the two discs to one side.

A bright red PetPadd. She flicked that over to the side as well.

Makeup; eyeliner, blush, mascara, lip plumper…sunglasses, obnoxious ones…wireless earphones, bright red, for the PetPadd…paperback copy of Bellinger's "_Elegant End_", worn, bookmark depicting a sunset over an island somewhere, marking a spot about a third of the way through…the Ensign liked that one, her third or fourth reading…credit chip, cheap one, depicting the same sunset, interestingly...an _alien _sunset, she realized...wouldn't be any purchases available for review online from less than two hours ago...she flicked it back in the pile...disposable napkin, fresh, lipstick on the corner, yellow ring near the center, still damp, an embossed logo on the opposite corner…

Sally turned, expecting the detective was done with the transfer, and accepted her PADD back. A quick speed reading, nothing notable there. Blood alcohol level at .09 at time of arrest. Though she was probably _very _sober by now.

She spread the napkin out, working the worst of the wrinkles out carefully, then clicked the camera mode bar on her PADD. After a minute she had the logo zoomed in and centered, sharpening the image before snapping a copy. A moment to convert the image and she had a go-search running on it. She put her PADD aside to let it work.

Pulling her multitool from a front pocket, she retrieved the PetPadd. Extending the flathead, she popped the cover loose and inspected the electronics. No security chip and nothing foreign in there. Standard civilian, then.

When her PADD chirped, she pulled it over to review the results. The symbol in the middle of the logo had been Deltan, denoting either 'sensual tongue' or 'good food', depending on the context. The logo itself belonged to the "_A'mel'ou-Sil'tea_". A hotel bar who's name translated to something pretty blush worthy…

…located less than two blocks from the bar she'd just come from. Which had been one block from where she lost Sterok...

Granger's attention snapped to the data discs waiting nearby.

Taking them in hand and jabbing at her PADD, she ran the ident-tag codes and waited…

It came back quickly enough, setting her PADD chirping in astonishment. Probably setting off a few alarms back at HQ as well.

Project '_Bluebird'_. The warp seven engine. Injector assembly blueprints on one disc. Plasma manifold tolerance projection reports on the other.

She dropped the discs and grabbed for the opened PetPadd. With a flick of her thumbnail she worked the hotwire loose from her own PADD and plugged into the diagnostic port. With the punch holer from the multitool, she depressed the 'reset' button on the back of the PetPadd…

_And_…she was in…

"Uh…can you do that?" The detective frowned, over her shoulder.

"Yup." She said shortly.

Call records back two weeks…appointment calendar…a two gig' photo file.

She opened that first.

_Well_, now. Sharon was a naughty little girl. Scrolling through the photos…neither of those two guys were Human. A bit of a freak as well, apparently…

_Bingo_.

Assistant Sterok himself, front and center. Proudly displaying the interesting things a Vulcan could do with a very willing Ensign McAllister. _Freaky deaky_.

She flicked her communicator open and made the call. Then turned to the detective behind her.

"Get down there and sit on her." She ordered. "No calls, no one talks to her. _Right now_."

He looked like he was going to ask a question at first…but her harsh glare sent him high-stepping it out the door instead.

"_Sally, you miss me already?" _Jimmy teased from her communicator.

"Better call in the cavalry, sir." She advised.

Jim was serious now. "_What have got you, Granger?"_

"This call's in the open, sir." She denied. _Yes, it was that serious._

"_There in twenty. Sit on it."_

* * *

"_Moving in_." Dion reported through her ear piece. He was entering the bar in front.

Sally continued around the trash bin, keeping to the deeper shadows along the wall of the alleyway. A police sky cruiser whispered in from above, lights off, to cover the two ground units blocking the south end of the street out front. She pulled her phase pistol, checking the setting with a glance, on the move. Weapon low, weaver stance, ready.

Behind her, Johnson's foot ticked something wooden in the dark. He was moving to the opposite wall to cover her advance.

"_Target. Southeast corner, table four_." Dion muttered in her ear.

Sally flicked one hand at Johnson, sending him to the opposite side of the door. If Sterok came this way he'd be heading straight for the…

"_Rabbit!" _Dion announced suddenly, his voice wobbling. He was running, dodging through the crowd inside probably. Sally looked over at Johnson. He hadn't drawn his weapon and was still moving into position, directly in front of the door…

…as it flung open, spilling red neon light into the alleyway. Sterok, bolting through, _something in his hand_…sliding to a stop at the sight of the tall, uniformed Human just a few feet away.

"Starfleet Intelligence! Drop your weapon!" She screamed, already aiming down her sights at him.

_Johnson was too close!_

The Vulcan's head jerked to her…the weapon hand still down…desperation in his eyes…and anger…

"_I'll burn a hole right through you!" _She warned, in fluent Vulcan. "_Drop the weapon, __now__!" _

Johnson went for his pistol.

Sterok's hand moved, coming up.

She fired.

* * *

**Starfleet Intelligence, Main Office**

**San Francisco, California**

"I'll need your weapon, Lieutenant." Murphy said, quietly.

She grimaced, handing it over. "I'm telling you, it was set to stun. Johnson will confirm. He caught fire _after _he was down."

"And you have no idea what caused that." Murphy noted.

She could only shrug helplessly. "He was _down_, sir. His weapon secured. PD was on the scene, just about to cuff him.. Then he just…lit up. Hardly any flame or anything, just a lot of smoke."

Captain Murphy stared. Which wasn't very helpful.

"Look, Jimmy…" She pleaded.

"Save it, Sally. You know how this goes." He said. "The local PD's all over this, raising a stink. And it's going to hit the press no matter how hard we step on it."

She sighed, frustrated.

"So. You're off the case."

She closed her eyes, pained.

"Your weapon goes to forensics and you get off Earth for a while." He said.

_Off…? Oh, God. _

"Where, sir?" She asked, dreadfully.

He hesitated. "Mars. We've got…"

"_Mars? Jimmy…!"_

He shook his head. "_Don't_, Sally." He warned.

"I can't…wha…?" She flailed breathlessly. "What am I going to do on _Mars_?"

"You're going to _be unavailable_!" Murphy barked. "_That's _what you're going to do, _Lieutenant!"_

Lieutenant. Sally snapped her mouth shut at that.

She struggled visibly for a second or two…and took a deep breath.

"Captain…" She began, as reasonably as she could manage. "A Vulcan involved in some kind of sex scandal? With a Human? Working out of the embassy to steal _warp seven intel, _which they have absolutely _no use _for? And our only suspect burning to ash out of nowhere?"

Murphy averted his eyes for a moment…but they were back, hard and cold a second later.

_Oh, Jimmy. Come on…_

"This doesn't smell a little _funny _to you, Jimmy?" She pleaded.

"It does. And we'll look into it." He said sternly. "_While you're gone_."


	3. Chapter 3

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

Archer entered the Mess Hall, two security officers in tow. Spying Hoshi standing to the side with Samuels, he moved quickly to join them…but not quickly enough to stop the Minister from attracting the attention of everyone else in the room.

"Captain Archer, what's going on?" He asked aloud, a little concerned. "Lieutenant Reed just left, in quite a hurry…"

Archer stepped close, speaking discreetly. "There's been an incident…"

Samuels caught the hint. "What kind of incident?" He asked, more subdued now.

"The shuttle we used to approach the array…it was sabotaged." He said. At Samuels' mild look of shock, he hurried to put him at ease.

"No one was harmed and we were able to determine who was responsible but…" Archer said, then hesitated. "He's…no longer a threat."

"A crewmen, I assume you mean." Samuels guessed. "That's very troubling, Archer…"

"I think it would best if you cut your visit short for now, Minister." He suggested. "At least until we complete our investigation."

Samuels noticed the two security officers waiting nearby and understood the implication.

"Yes, of course." He agreed, smoothly. Archer needed him out of harm's way. And better that he not draw attention to himself in the process.

"These officers will escort you to your shuttle." Archer said, indicating the men at attention behind him.

Samuels nodded easily, delaying his departure only long enough to shake Archer's hand farewell. "I'll contact you from Starfleet Command, Captain." He assured.

Turning to join the waiting security detail he was promptly escorted out of the room and away.

"Hoshi." Archer said, already turning to her. "I need you to…"

"Captain?" Hoshi whispered urgently, stepping closer. "I don't understand. Who would…?"

He placed one hand on her shoulder, demanding her attention.

"There's no time to explain. Get to the bridge, help Malcolm however you can. We don't know if Masaro was working alone."

Hoshi's eyes widened further…but she left without another word.

As he turned to follow her out himself, intending to get back to Reed on Deck E, Archer suddenly found all attention on him. A few of the crewmen in the Mess Hall at least tried to hide the fact that they'd been trying to listen in…but most were watching openly, curious what they were missing…

With only the slightest pause he turned and left, more disturbed than he would have liked to admit.

_Any one of them could be…_

But that was a thought he would not allow himself to finish.

* * *

Malcolm arrived at Masaro's quarters, finding the door already open and Ensign Hicks on guard in the hall. With barely a nod he was through the portal and inside, finding Foster hard at work at the console across the room.

From the shambles he'd made of the place, Malcolm guessed the security officer had already performed a rather…_aggressive _search before settling at the console.

'_Ransacking' might be a more apt description_, he observed. The room would require a _much _more meticulous going over than _this_…

"What have you found, Lieutenant?" He asked as he approached, taking care as he moved through the debris. Foster didn't turn his attention from the console, still reviewing Masaro's personal logs even as he spoke.

"Sorry about the mess, sir." Foster said, causing Reed to smirk slightly. Lieutenant Foster had known very well he'd take issue with his methods.

"Haven't given the room a proper going over yet. Yamato is on his way to take care of that. Just hoped I'd find something obvious…"

"We'll get to that later." Reed said. "What have you found _there_?" Considering Foster's interest, he assumed he'd found something.

"Well, sir…nothing conclusive, I'm afraid." He said. "Although, you might find some of this interesting."

He tapped the screen, summoning a smaller window to the side. "Masaro didn't make too many verbal entries. It's almost all text. What few he did make I've converted and merged together. Easier to search that way."

"Here, sir…" He said, pointing at the smaller window. "I wanted to show you these two first…"

Reed leaned in to examine what Foster was pointing at. He'd highlighted the portions of interest and Malcolm was able to pick them out easily.

The first, written several months ago…

'…_probably shouldn't have said anything. But I couldn't help it. It just made me so angry! But a few of the guys told me later that they agreed with me. It's good to know I'm not the only one around here that sees the big picture. We keep stirring up more trouble for Earth the longer we're out here... '_

And sitting amidst the second entry, somewhat contradicting the first, bemoaning that no one else shared his perspective…

_'…until I heard about Tucker and T'Pol. I hadn't paid much attention to that kind of talk before. Everyone else may think it's funny but it disgusted me. Just the idea made me sick. It was as if everything Marcel talked about was happening right here on the ship. Right in front of me and all around. 'Creeping integration', he called it. Even if it were true about them, I think only two or three people around here would even care…'_

Malcolm checked the date of the second entry again…only two days after Trip had returned from the Columbia…

Sensing Malcolm's disquiet, Foster spoke. "I don't know about you, sir, but I don't like the implications in either of those at all."

Reed nodded, trying not to show just how concerned he was. "Have you seen anything to suggest Masaro was aware of other Terra Prime members on board?"

Foster shook his head. "No, sir. And no sign that he revealed himself to anyone or tried recruiting any other crewmen. I couldn't even say _he _was a member, from this alone. Xenophobic, of course, but…I'm not quite finished, sir. Maybe there's something in the last two weeks…"

"The reference to 'Marcel' wouldn't be to _Ensign _Marcel, would it?" Reed mused aloud. Marcel had been KIA during the Xindi attack at Azati Prime. That had been just over a year ago…

"It's _possible_, sir." Foster suggested. "But Masaro has a cousin named Marcel on Earth, so if I had to guess I'd say that's who he's referring to…there's no way to tell. There's no other mention of the name that I've seen. There is _this_, though, the last entry…"

Foster tapped the console, jumping to the bottom of the combined textual log. The last entry, dated yesterday. Foster had highlighted the last paragraph…

_'We heard about it all the way in Engineering. So we gathered around the screen and watched. I couldn't believe it at first. They finally did it! I almost couldn't stop my self from cheering out loud. Then we heard we were going to Mars to stop them. I have no idea what I'm going to do now. I can't just sit here and let Archer interfere but what can I do? I know we'll stop them when we get there. They have to know we're in system and that we're coming. I don't know what to do. It's all going to fall apart before it even begins. I should have seen this coming, I guess. What am I going to do now?'_

Reed sighed in disgust. So Masaro had known about Paxton's plans, for who knows how long. Confronted with the prospect of the Enterprise interfering and being forced to work against his 'friends' in Terra Prime…he'd grown desperate and decided to sabotage the shuttle.

"I thought I'd find some reference to a communication here between Masaro and Terra Prime." Foster said. "That he'd received orders of some kind…but from this, it doesn't seem so."

Reed nodded. "Ensign Sato has already confirmed, no unusual transmissions since we arrived. It's beginning to look as if Masaro acted on his own initiative."

Foster frowned. "Well, I'd hoped for some kind of connection here. Something we could work with. Not to mention something more to bring against Paxton. I'll keep looking though, sir. Maybe there's _something _here."

"Very well. Let me know if you find anything." Reed acknowledged. "I'll report what we have to the Captain."

The Captain had said he'd meet him here after seeing to Minister Samuels…but that had been nearly thirty minutes ago…

* * *

The chimed sounded at the Ready Room door.

"Come in." Archer ordered, still gazing through the viewport down at Earth.

Malcolm Reed entered, letting out an audible breath when he sighted the Captain...eliciting a curious look from Archer in return when he did.

"Sorry, sir." He said, a little chagrined. "I guess when you didn't arrive I began to suspect…" Well, Malcolm wasn't sure exactly _what _he'd begun to suspect, come to think of it.

Archer nodded solemnly. "I understand, Malcolm. This whole thing's starting to make _me _a little…"

"Paranoid, sir?" Reed suggested. Only half joking.

"Yes, I guess so." Archer nodded. "I've never had reason to distrust the crew before…and I _still _don't…" He insisted. "But the idea of Terra Prime issuing orders on the Enterprise…"

"If I may, sir." Reed interrupted. "It's possible they _didn't_."

The Captain turned around at that. "What do you mean?"

"We've reviewed Ensign Masaro's personal logs, sir." Malcolm reported. "There's nothing to suggest he _received _any orders precisely. It would seem he identified with Terra Prime and when the Enterprise attempted to intervene…he became desperate."

"Enough to risk of the lives of his fellow crewmen?" Archer demanded. "Masaro was an engineer. I'm sure he knew _exactly _what he was doing! The shuttle _should _have been destroyed."

Malcolm shrugged lightly. "It would seem he identified rather _strongly _with their beliefs, Captain."

Archer turned away in disgust.

"After everything we've been through. This is the last thing I expected to…" Archer said. Then exhaled, frustrated.

He turned back again, glowering. "What have you uncovered so far?"

Malcolm noted the Captain's reluctance. He didn't really _want _to know but…He readied his PADD, calling up the information he required, prepared to report.

"We have word from Mars that Starfleet Intelligence has a team at work there already, investigating the mining facility at present. They haven't submitted their initial report yet…"

"We have S.I. on Mars?" Archer asked, surprised.

"It would seem so, sir." Malcolm said. At the Captain's nod, he continued.

"Masaro referred to someone named 'Marcel' in his logs recently as well." He said. "Very likely a cousin. I'll make mention of that in my final report to Starfleet."

Thankfully, Archer didn't ask concerning _Ensign _Marcel, as he'd feared he would, sparing him having to deny a _second _officer may have been complicit.

Not that it was entirely impossible…

"Also, assuming it was through Ensign Masaro that Terra Prime gained access to genetic material from Commanders Tucker and T'Pol…and bearing in mind the age of their…ah, of the infant…that would suggest the delivery was made at least six months ago."

He waited for the Captain to do the math. They'd been in orbit around Vulcan then, the closest they had been to Earth in quite some time.

"That would mean Masaro passed it off to someone on Vulcan." Archer realized. "He never left the ship. One of the Vulcans we had on board?"

"We didn't have that many visitors, sir." Malcolm suggested.

Archer frowned. "We had enough. Soval, V'las, Stel…" He paused there.

Malcolm nodded slightly. "I had the same thought, sir." He admitted.

"That would suggest V'las' administration was involved in this somehow." Archer argued, shaking his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It _is _suspect, sir." Malcolm offered. "But I'll point out that Shran visited us as well. And…T'Pol's husband at the time, Koss."

Comprehension dawned on Archer then. "Which would make a bit _more _sense. A jilted husband I can see…"

Malcolm was surprised at the characterization. He hadn't been aware of any 'jilting' involved there. Although…considering what he'd seen over the last month between Trip and T'Pol…that didn't seem entirely _impossible _either...

"…but Terra Prime relying on an alien?" Archer shook his head at that.

"I don't know what else to say, sir." Malcolm replied. "There were no deliveries on or off the ship that Masaro had ready access to."

Archer thought it over for a moment…before rejecting it. "I can't buy it, Malcolm. And however it was done, we still have Terra Prime working with Vulcans. I would imagine they came second only to the Xindi with Paxton. That just doesn't seem very likely."

Malcolm conceded. "We only had two parcels shipped off the Enterprise at the time, both tagged for the embassy. If Masaro made use of either, it wouldn't necessarily require Vulcan involvement."

Archer was agitated. "That's not much better, Lieutenant!" He exclaimed. "Now we have the embassy on Vulcan involved?"

"Paxton was wealthy enough to arrange it, sir, if he wanted to badly enough." Malcolm argued. "And it would seem he did."

When the Captain offered no disagreement, turning away to look out the viewport instead, Malcolm decided to continue forward.

"Ensign Masaro's body has been turned over to S.I., as well as…"

"Has Trip been notified?"

That caught Malcolm off guard.

"About Masaro, sir?"

"Yes."

"I…no, sir. I don't believe so." Malcolm had a feeling of real dread come over him then.

"He'll have to be told." Archer said. "And he knows his people pretty well. Maybe he can offer something."

Malcolm was a little surprised…and disturbed…that the Captain seemed comfortable bringing this to Trip's attention _now_. He was still in Sickbay, he and T'Pol. With their daughter…

"Never mind." The Captain realized. "Maybe this isn't the best time to…_interrogate _Trip. I'll speak to him. If he knows anything, maybe…"

Archer suddenly slumped a bit, running his hand over his forehead. _Oh, bloody hell. Here it comes._

"Although, to be honest, I'm not sure how to approach him right now." Archer turned back to face him…

…and at the look on his face Malcolm resigned himself that this was indeed going to be one of _those _conversations.

"I realize I've been…out of touch with the crew for a long while now." Archer admitted. "Even with Trip. And I know there's been a lot going on there that I'm not supposed to know about."

Malcolm started backing away from every topic _that _suggested right away. "Sir, I'm afraid I'm hardly one to…"

"I'm not asking you to compromise anyone here, Malcolm." Archer said, shifting uncomfortably. "But Trip and I were friends once. I have no idea what to say to him now. And the fact is…_you've _been more of a friend to him over the last two years than I have."

Malcolm tried again. "Sir, I wouldn't say…"

"It's true." He continued, ignoring Malcolm's objections. "If Trip were going to talk to anyone about all of this, it'd be you long before me. _T'Pol_, actually, but she's involved in this as much as he is."

Malcolm saw his opportunity and grabbed for it. "Perhaps you should speak with her, sir. I'm sure he'll take the news much easier from her than either of us. And she could probably relay any insights Commander Tucker has regarding Ensign Masaro as well."

The Captain considered it…and Malcolm hoped. He had an investigation to get on with, after all…he certainly had no inclination to involve himself in any of _that _sort of thing.

"Good idea." Archer agreed. With a plan in place, he squared his shoulders a bit, to Malcolm's relief, and went about it. "Continue your investigation. I'll head to Sickbay and talk to T'Pol."

"Very good, sir." Malcolm agreed.

He turned and left, as quickly as decorum allowed, before the Captain could think of any other beastly business to rope him into.


	4. Chapter 4

**North Star Intrasystem Transport, **_**"Festival Queen"**_

**En route to Mars**

Sally Granger had long since tuned out the commercial loops playing across the screen…she was still waiting for the _movie_. Which was supposed to have started a half hour ago.

"…_then Stellar One is for you! With roaming visual networking, dynamic real-time data acquisition and the personal service you've come to expect from MobileComm's dedicated…"_

Lacking any conveniently mindless form of entertainment, she indulged herself by reading the passengers around her instead. At least, those within her view. Not as good as a movie for making a three hour space flight go by quickly but…yeah, almost. Didn't hurt spending this time keeping her skills sharp either.

And, really. It was just her 'thing'.

"…_the most hilarious mishaps *boink* caught on tape! HME's 'Reality Bytes', season six! Available everywhere…!"_

Occupying her attention at the moment was the scruffy haired college student across the aisle and up two rows. He wasn't comfortable at all with the Retellian sitting next to him. Understandable, of course, especially if you'd never met one before. There really wasn't a huge difference in appearance admittedly, especially compared to some _other _species she'd seen…but, still.

What she found interesting was just how hard the man was trying _not _to be uncomfortable. All his instincts for self-preservation were clearly screaming for him to get _away _from the obviously alien 'person' sitting next to him. Contrasted by, she surmised, some very deeply ingrained good manners insisting he get over himself and not make the _other guy _uncomfortable.

_Somebody's momma taught them not to stare at other people_. Sally figured. From the level of conflict going on there she guessed momma had maybe smacked him a few good times as a kid for something along those lines.

Funny how that works. Trying so hard not to be uncomfortable was just making him _more _uncomfortable…

"…_complex colonies of bacteria. This matrix grants them added protection, foiling most traditional methods. But they're no match for Dentact OXD! Watch what happens when we apply a single rinse with…"_

What really brought a quirky grin to her lips was the fact that the Retellian was going through exactly the same thing. Granted, all the tell signs were subtly different from one another, enough to be easily missed. Especially with both of them so preoccupied with their own internal struggles. But each of the two men were completely unaware of the other's discomfort.

And that was just plain funny.

She couldn't help wondering, though…if they both somehow _became _aware that the other was experiencing the same thing…would they share a laugh about it? Or would they be all the _more _uncomfortable?

Which really was just irresistible. How could she go about calling their attention to that without _seeming _to draw their attention to it? She could spill a drink in the aisle there, first off. Just a little bit…then from there, with their attention on that…

"…_award winning vocalist, live from the Cochrane Memorial Coliseum, March eighth through the tenth! Get your tickets now before…*static*…"_

"_My name is John Frederick Paxton. I've just taken over the verteron array on Mars. I can now fire on any ship or facility in the system."_

Huh. She knew that name…taking her attention away from the two men, she was just in time to catch a golden beam punch a nice new hole in the moon.

_Well. Not the movie advertised…but…no, wait…_

The picture snapped back to show the man speaking…and the triangular logo at the bottom left.

Terra Prime.

"_I have no intention of using this weapon again, provided that every single non-human in our system leaves. Immediately."_

Oh…_hell_.

Paxton. Terra Prime.

Sally went cold and her awareness jumped into overdrive, so sharply focused suddenly that it was nearly painful. Without a thought she tamped down on her panicked reaction and put her brain hard to work. Assess and address. Collect and collate. _Everything _is relevant.

Paxton…verteron array…just hit the moon…threat, demonstration, demand…classic terrorist action.

Right off the bat…he's lying. _'_Every single non-human' _can't _leave 'immediately'. Nor would they if they could. He has every intention of using the weapon again. He has his next shot planned already, this is all just to lay the blame on the victims…

"_I know there will be questions. We've been dealing with non-humans for almost a century." _

Building up to something now…

Sally turned part of her mind to examining everything relevant that she already knew, leaving the rest to track the speech until he got to the point.

John F. Paxton…mining company director?…father broke ground in lunar mining…respectably wealthy, hardly a big shot…that was almost all she knew of him…except...he'd come up in one of the meetings she'd had the 'privilege' of passing hardcopies and coffee around at…Minister Sumter pushed for a closer look at him…up and coming Terra Prime supporter/member…that was six months ago…

His company was a _lunar _mining company…the verteron array was on Mars. He's come a _long _way, a personal investment…

On the screen ahead Paxton was coming to the point finally…something _big_…bigger than literally shooting the moon…

"_Judge the evidence for yourselves. The citizen soldiers of Terra Prime will act to protect you against the most dangerous enemy that humanity has ever faced."_

A…baby? Vulcan, from the ears. The color seemed off, though…

"_Do not be deceived. This is no ordinary, innocent child. This is an alien/human hybrid. Living proof of what will happen if we allow ourselves to be submerged in an interstellar coalition. Our genetic heritage…" _

'Interstellar coalition'. The conference at Starfleet Command...the target of all this…directly or indirectly?

The baby, though…a Vulcan/Human hybrid? Color due to Human oxygenated blood, not Vulcan _de_-oxygenated…subtle difference but noticeable, if you look for it…Human blood, Vulcan ears.

_Where the hell did they get that baby?_

And 'proof of what will happen'? What_, babies _will happen? Shocking to the most xenophobic perhaps…but this was an act of terrorism…strike fear in the those that oppose, incite your support base…The build up should have been to something that would sway those sitting on the fence…a _baby _isn't going to do that. It'll push all of those people _away_.

Because it's bizarre, crazy.

"_Terra Prime is dedicated to the protection of life in all of its diversity. So for the next twenty four hours, we guarantee safe passage to all aliens leaving our solar system. So long as non-humans keep to their own worlds…"_

Remember, we're the good guys. Not our fault what we're about to do…that's those other guy's fault…

"…_but if any alien, if one single alien remains after the deadline, Terra Prime will defend the sovereignty of every single human being and we will begin by destroying the institution whose blind arrogance and moral cowardice have put us all at risk. Starfleet Command."_

Scare tactics, both ways. Ambitious, shooting big, _very _big…but the baby, that's crazy, counterproductive…he's calm, focused, rational…no wide eyed, spittle laden threats here…but the baby just doesn't make sense…

Targeting Starfleet Command…Paxton's going to die…he knows it…the whole system will be coming down on him very soon…a true believer, make a big statement and cementing it with his martyred blood…

"_We do not seek war…"_

Oh, yes. You certainly do.

"…_but if the aliens do not leave, and force us to fight, I make this solemn promise to all of the sons and daughters of Earth. Our future will be secure because humanity will prevail."_

He's making his mark, going out…already prepared for Starfleet and the Stellar Navy to come for him…relying on the verteron array to make that spectacular…but in the end, he dies and Terra Prime membership skyrockets…humanity 'prevails'.

The baby doesn't make sense, so that's the key…either crazy or something _else _behind the scenes…definitely something more…something _there…_something _with _him…

Utopia colony, her disembarkment, was just fifty kilometers out from the array…probably maintained from there…facility in place for that, transports and people to make the trip…Paxton isn't calling the shots from a bunker on the moon…he's _there_, at the array…at the front lines…the first to fall, to die for the cause…

Twenty-four hours. She'd be there in less than three. Clear through inception, four. Coordinate with the locals, six. Put together a team, seven. Get transport and _be there_ in less than ten…

_If _she had clearance…need a subspace transmitter…one in the cockpit…

She was up, brushing past the attendant. Ignoring her nervous attempt to redirect her, heading for that transmitter…

_Jimmy. Got to call Jimmy._

* * *

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

"Well, that's quite remarkable." Phlox noted, completely distracted by…whatever he was reviewing on the screens before him. Across the room T'Pol waited. Impatiently, she was reluctant to admit…but suppressing it enough that it didn't interfere.

Trip, however…she was surprised to find she'd already taken action with him. Apparently without being completely aware of it.

As focused as she was on Phlox it would seem she'd recognized Trip's eminent explosion and taken steps to distract him from attempting to aggressively extract an explanation…she'd grabbed the nearest shoulder to her with one hand, reaching across with the other to place it directly on his chest.

He'd stopped in his tracks before completing the first step. And was _silent_. Still massively frustrated and on the very edge of flagrant emotional outburst…but her reaction had obviously been successful in forestalling that for the moment. Yet another example, it would seem, of the bond at work. Integrating her peripheral senses, her empathic awareness of his emotional state and utilizing an entirely too physical method of intervention, she'd managed with one fluid motion to keep him in check and…_quiet_…until Phlox might offer something more informative…

It wasn't especially effective, of course. A disagreeable reaction, entirely unplanned, intended only to _delay _the inevitable outburst. But perhaps there was some method at her disposal for lessening his excessive emotionality, in order to alleviate…

"Hmm…" Phlox posited.

That was too much for Trip.

"What, Phlox?" He exclaimed. "_What?"_

The doctor spared only a raised hand in their direction, still focused on extracting some accounting from the information scrolling by in front of him.

"Just a moment…" He said.

Trip was moving forward again and she was suddenly confronted with the choice of fully grappling with him or…

"Trip." She suggested. "Allow Doctor Phlox to concentrate."

She hadn't intended to call him "Trip" again. Not after the obscenely intimate behavior she'd exhibited toward him earlier. That certainly wouldn't help things.

But again…it seemed to work for the moment. Rather than rush across the room to shake the Denobulan violently, as she sensed he'd intended to, he expelled some of his excess emotion with a harsh, sharp breath. Then turned away from her, shrugging her off, to face the opposite wall and gather some measure of self control.

Of course, that put him out of easy reach. Which posed a problem…

…and why was she so preoccupied with Commander Tucker at the moment? To the exclusion of everything else? Doctor Phlox had information concerning her _daughter_…

"Doctor." She demanded. "What is it?"

"Well…" Phlox said, still thoroughly distracted. "Several incompatible allele seem to have heterozygized, even establishing dominance…"

"What does that _mean_, Phlox?" Trip demanded behind her.

Phlox glanced over then, realizing Commander Tucker likely hadn't a clue what he was talking about.

"Ah…many of the incompatibilities I referenced earlier…" He paused, unsure how to state it in layman's terms. "…seem to have _corrected _themselves. Although I've no idea how…"

"How is that possible?" T'Pol demanded. Only partly to obstruct Trip from doing so, in a far more disruptive manner.

"Well, I can't really _say_." Phlox said, at a loss. "In fact, in light of the difficulties I've faced so far assessing this patient, I find I'm…"

"Are you saying she's getting better?" Trip exclaimed.

Phlox was very hesitant now, clearly reluctant to verbalize any conclusion at all. "The readings only a half hour ago are entirely inconsistent with…I'm not seeing anything at all of concern here…"

Fidgeting, he seemed to collect himself a bit. "Her fever is gone, allergic reactions vanished…I can't find anything medically wrong with her, even at the genetic level. I suppose I'm saying…she _is _better. Although, I really can't explain…"

"You said she was dying, Phlox!" Trip accused.

He was becoming very emotional, T'Pol realized. Enough to provoke her to anxiety.

"Why would you _say _that?" He demanded, moving toward the doctor. "Why did you say she was dying?"

He was yelling now, demanding. _Threatening_.

"Trip." She soothed. "Remain calm…"

"No! _No_, T'Pol!" Trip yelled. "He told us she was dying! He _lied _to us!"

He was completely irrational, she realized.

"_Trip!" _She tried again, allowing emotion into her voice this time.

A measure of insistence and incredulity. That had always worked before to elicit his attention. And it worked now. He was looking right at her, prepared for one short moment to hear what she had to say. As long as she spoke quickly enough that listening did not interfere with his emotional outburst unduly, she knew that he would hear her.

But Phlox intervened before she could speak further. Very unwisely placing a hand on Trip's shoulder to reassure him…and in preparation for the hypospray he intended to administer…

…at the sight of which Trip struck out, knocking the hand away and spinning the hypospray across the room to *_smack_* loudly on the far wall. At the look of shock on Phlox's face, T'Pol was suddenly convinced her mate was completely out of control…a danger to himself and to Phlox…and the baby was crying now, upset at all the chaos and noise in the room…

So without thinking, she reached out to help him. To restore order…

* * *

Archer took a moment to steel his resolve before entering Sickbay. He wasn't looking forward to anything that might be waiting for him in there but the fact was…he'd been out of the loop for far too long. He was well past due for taking steps to repair the relationships that had once made him, in his personal opinion, a far more effective Captain than he was at the moment.

Remaining detached and demanding during a crisis situation was one thing. And they'd certainly had their fair share of those. He'd done what he had to do, of that he was certain. But crew morale had been completely shredded over the last two years as a result of it. They had remained loyal to him and trusted his leadership during all of that, and up to this point as well. But only because they'd _had _to, not because he'd given them any _reason _to.

Jonathan Archer needed to make a comeback. He'd eased up and begun interacting socially again over the last couple of months. A little, anyway. Nothing more than a slight smile or clever quip now and again. A few actual _conversations _with crewmen. But the reaction had been noticeable. The crew, especially the senior officers, had responded very well. Almost eagerly. It was going to be tough working through the damage done but there was every reason to believe that they were all up to the task. His crew was the best of the best, after all. And it _needed _to be done if the _Enterprise _was ever going to be the ship she once was…

And he was just procrastinating with all this anyway. What kind of Captain was afraid of his crew? Unacceptable. Get in there and get to it, Jonathan. Quite lurking in the corridor. Start _fixing _this.

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, he tapped the panel and stepped through the doors as they slid open. Full of confidence, an open expression and open mind, prepared for anything…

…except the sight of Commander T'Pol nerve pinching Commander Tucker in the middle of Sickbay.

And Doctor Phlox standing there looking…_afraid_? Of _Trip_?

And the hybrid baby, on the examining table directly behind him, wailing at the top of her lungs. Quite exasperated with a universe that would allow such minor events to steal attention away from _her_. He hadn't heard her cry at all before now. She had quite a set of lungs. It was extremely annoying.

He'd walked right into utter bedlam. And suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn right around and go hide in the Ready Room again.

A Captain shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing. His job was to yell at everyone until problems like this went away. This was the _executive officer's _job, not his.

But there she was, staring at him, right in the middle of it. Looking like she'd just got caught inciting mutiny with the crew. Which…she could very well have been doing, for all he knew.

_So. Okay. Here we go…_

"T'Pol." He said, carefully. "Would you mind telling me what is going on in here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**North Star Intrasystem Transport, **_**"Festival Queen"**_

**Approaching Mars**

"There's a security detail attached to the array already, Jimmy!" Sally argued. "_And _there's the local PD. I can have a team together, a good one, already waiting when I touch down…"

"_Absolutely not, Granger!" _Murphy insisted. "_And before you say another word, you hear me out."_

"Jimmy, we're wasting time…!" She argued.

"_Shut it!" _Murphy snapped.

Sally stifled herself…with some difficulty. _There wasn't time!_

"_Pull yourself out of the equation, Granger." _Murphy said. _"All the way out…and you ask yourself who you would want conducting this raid. Local PD and Starfleet Security, who are qualified to do exactly that…or some Intel analyst, trained to conduct investigation and interview..."_

"Sir!" Sally exclaimed. "I'm fully trained _and _qualified…!"

"_Out of the equation, Sally!" _Murphy barked. _"Who would you want? If it was your life on the line!"_

_Arrgh! _He was right, of course. But that didn't take into account that…

…well, that she really, really wanted to take Paxton down. Because he was a threat. And she was putting herself out there again. Because that pissed her off.

Sally sighed. "Jimmy!" She complained. "I'm your only resource out here…"

"_You're not a cop, Sally." _He point out.

_Ouch. Yeah, that was just a low blow._

She glared. "That's not fair, Jimmy."

"_No, it's not." _He conceded_. "But you will drop it. Period. Discussion over. You're an Intelligence Officer. So start applying some intelligence here. The people who are going to be shooting it out with the bad guys are relying on you to make it all worth it. It's not enough to take this lunatic down. We need to know why and how. And that is your job."_

Sally really didn't want to. Really, _really _did not. But she bowed her head, working diligently to get it together. Murphy was absolutely right. She was running full tilt into the breach again…

"_Get your head in the game, Lieutenant_." Murphy insisted. "_Because you're right. There isn't time_…"

Sally's snapped her head back up. Focused, alert, ready. Head clear, yes sir, thank you, sir, and…

"Go ahead, sir." She said.

Murphy examined her closely for a second…then nodded.

"_Here's the situation. The Enterprise was made aware of the hybrid yesterday_." He said. "_One of the Terra Prime members involved made contact with them at the conference, passing a hair sample before she died. Phase pistol to the chest. Name is Susan Khouri, medical technician, took leave from Earth about a year ago. Relocated to Luna, citing emotional problems. Fell off the screen as soon as she arrived. The connections there are obvious."_

Sally nodded.

"_The very interesting part…Doctor Phlox, the medical officer on the Enterprise, ran the sample…confirms Paxton's claims of a Human/Vulcan hybrid alright. And that the genetic parents are Commanders Tucker and T'Pol, also of the Enterprise. Now, just let that one sink in…"_

She got it. It was obvious.

"Trying to provoke the Enterprise to get involved." She said. "Makes sense. They're kind of in the news, Jimmy, and these are terrorists we're dealing with. How did they get the genetics?"

"_Unknown. That's for you to find out. But we've heard rumors for quite a while now that there's a lot more than just a professional relationship going on between those two_."

She considered that for a second…then…

"No." She denied. "No way she could keep that under wraps. Everyone on the ship would know if she were pregnant. Vulcan pregnancies tend to be…well, some of the behaviors exhibited would be pretty hard to miss. So unless the whole ship was in on keeping it a secret and they passed the baby off as soon as they got home with no one noticing…"

She shook her head. "So, no. Terra Prime's got a clone and they're just calling attention to some juicy bits by dragging those two into it. Undermine the Enterprise and Starfleet in the public eye by extension. Again, makes sense. Nicely done, actually."

"_Okay_." Murphy nodded. "_So then they go toe to toe with Starfleet's suddenly discredited flag ship right before they blast Starfleet Command. But if that's not enough, we've got the same two Commanders on the moon four hours ago, digging into Khouri_…"

"Why? Where's S.I.?" Sally asked. "And who's stupid idea was it to send _those _two? Talk about emotional investment, not to mention the huge risk they'll get made."

"_Well, Archer jumped the gun on us_." Murphy admitted. "_Doesn't matter. Point is…Enterprise lost contact with them. Right before the whole facility took off and warped to Mars, where Paxton's now sitting on the verteron array."_

"So he's got them." Sally jumped ahead. "Hostages on site. The genetic parents of the baby, too. Who are themselves rumored..."

She put the pieces together. "Well, crap. We just handed it right to them, didn't we?"

"_Which is why we have to get this ball rolling now_." Murphy said. "_Like you said, you're my resource out there. The Navy will be 'guns blazing' soon enough and it will get bloody. I need you with the whole mess laid out for review when the dust settles_."

"Susan Khouri, then." She said. "What have we got on her? Off the screen, you said."

"_That's right_." Murphy said, shaking his head. "_Nothing on her at all. Worked at Med Clinic Four on Luna. Nothing for an entire year but her name on a register. Then she suddenly shows up at the conference with a hole in her chest and a hair sample. We don't even know how she got down the gravity well…"_

"Then whoever ran the clinic was in on it." Granger said. "Kept her on the books while she did the clone work for Paxton. They wouldn't do it there in the clinic."

At Murphy's dubious look she explained. "Cloning babies isn't something you just do in your spare time. I grew up on a farm, Jimmy. It's a full time pain in the butt with _animals_."

"_Not doubting you, Sally. Fact is we got him already_." He said. "_Found dead. Mining accident. About four hours ago."_

Sally thought it over carefully, retracing her steps. Nothing major she'd missed.

She shook her head. "Then I need to get inside that facility." She said. "I need Paxton strapped to a chair. I need everyone who's working there under the scope. I need the facility computer core, their cloning lab, a forensics team…heck, I need to be _in _there, Jimmy."

"_Not going to happen_." He said. "_Not until the facility is secured. So you've got two choices and I'll let you pick. I'll trust your judgment as to where you think you can do the most good. You either hop the first flight back to Luna when you arrive, starting digging there…or you get that team together and wait for the fireworks to die down. Your call_."

Sally thought it over. Fact is, she'd do more good _right now _on the moon. But once Paxton's mining facility opened up…

"I'll wait." She decided. "And I'll have a team ready to go when we get the all clear. I'll need more than I've got on Terra Prime, Paxton _and _the _Enterprise_, though. And I need full authority on Mars. Paxton has to have a spotter there somewhere. He didn't jump from Luna to Mars in the blind."

"_Terra Prime and Paxton I can do_." Murphy said. "_What do you need on Enterprise? A lot of that's very highly classified, Granger._"

She shrugged. "I need it, sir."

Murphy hesitated…for only a moment…then nodded. "_Okay, consider yourself upgraded. Security level nine, all requisite duties and assigns, etc. You can pick up your colors when you get home. I'll contact Mars Admin, get you full authority. But you step lightly, Granger. No mistakes. You've already got a stink with your name attached to it sitting on my desk."_

"Understood, sir." She acknowledged.

"_I'll have a packet your way in thirty_." Murphy said. "_Call you at Mars Admin, so read quick and be ready to go."_

Click. Then he was gone. And she was on her own again.

And…wow. She just jumped from level six to level nine. Just like that.

Sally took a deep breath. _Oh, boy. Well, that's not intimidating or anything. And of course Murphy isn't fully prepared to throw her to the wolves if she screwed up. Why, perish the thought._

She shut down the subspace comm, then accessed the terminal to dump the cache. The black box would have to be scrambled, too. After double checking her work she turned around to unlock the cockpit door…stepping aside nimbly when the pilot charged right through, the co-pilot on his heels. They didn't even take the time to sit down, bending over their chairs to pour over the readings. Making sure she hadn't pushed any buttons or crashed them into anything.

The co-pilot spared her a glare, though.

"Are you done in here?" He asked, angrily.

Sally nodded. "All done. And thank you for your cooper…"

"Then get out." He snapped, turning to take his seat.

Sally Granger turned and left the cockpit without another word. She actually felt bad for having to throw them out in the first place. And they'd probably come under fire from the passengers the second they appeared out in the cabin. They'd seen Paxton's broadcast and it was expected that they'd all be pretty shaken up by it.

_In fact_, she thought, as the door behind her. _Here comes one now_.

The Retellian she'd watched earlier was headed right for her. He was projecting his paranoia all over the place, as well as his intention to alleviate that by demanding answers from the woman who apparently had the authority to take over cockpits and order Captains around.

* * *

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

Having helped Phlox transfer Trip's unconscious body to somewhere more appropriate than the middle of the floor, Archer now stood before T'Pol. Arms folded, waiting for that explanation. Trying very hard to keep in mind that he wasn't going to yell at anyone unless absolutely necessary.

"It has been…a difficult few days." T'Pol admitted, miserably.

Which was sounding awfully familiar to Archer. He'd glance around for a PADD that might have been smashed against something recently but the fact that Trip was unconscious nearby probably covered that.

"And you haven't had time to meditate, I guess." He said. _Yes, T'Pol. I remember that excuse. And I didn't buy it then, either._

And yes, he also caught the very quick, very furtive look that flittered across her face. Shame that she'd been caught trying to pull one over on him and frustration that it hadn't worked.

"I was concerned for Doctor Phlox's safety. And Tr…Commander Tucker's." She offered. "In retrospect…I may have overreacted."

"Concerned for Doctor Phlox and _Trip_." He observed.

He could read the surprise on her face. It was probably the first time he'd acknowledged her habit of calling him 'Trip'. He'd ignored it up to this point. And come to think of it…he'd heard her make that same slip quite a lot recently…

"So you knocked Trip unconscious." He said, staring her down. _You are hearing how that sounds, aren't you T'Pol?_

Then she fidgeted…which by itself was a warning sign that all was certainly not well. She was all over the place, he realized, emotions easily provoked. Practically a basket case by Vulcan standards.

So he eased back a bit.

"T'Pol…I can see there's a lot going on here. As if the events of the last three days haven't been enough." Archer said. "And it's clear to me that you and Trip have a…problem. A problem that's interfering with your duties."

T'Pol practically blanched at the accusation. "Captain, I…"

"This is not a discussion, Commander." He said, sternly_. No, we're not yelling at anyone today. But we're not going to interrupt the Captain around here either…_

He sighed, pulling back on this tone a bit more though.

"I think you've got enough to deal with as it is. You feel responsible for the baby. You have to stay here and take care of her. I understand that. But it's clear to me that you're in no shape to do that. So you will go meditate. For as long as you need to."

Seeing she was about to object, he cut her off again. "That's an order! You're no good for the baby like this. Or anyone else. I'm guessing the reason she's crying right now has everything to do with you and Trip."

And _again _he could read the impact of his words written clearly across her face. He might as well have slapped her. His concern for her was beginning to grow.

"Go meditate." He said, as gently as he felt he could get away with. "I'll take care of Trip. And then I'm going to make sure he takes care of himself as well. Phlox says the baby is doing well. If anything changes, I will call you. Alright?"

T'Pol nodded meekly. "Yes, Captain."

_Good_, he nodded. Everyone was doing what they were told and order would soon be restored. Archer was beginning to feel a bit confident that he might pull this off…

"I must calm Elizabeth first." T'Pol added, already heading for the exam table.

…well, okay. His crew was both the best of the best _and _extremely stubborn. Pretty much obeyed orders when they wanted to and to the degree they felt warranted. But we can still do this…

A grunt from the exam table behind him. He looked over his shoulder.

And now Trip's awake.

Wonderful.

"Trip." He said. "Take it easy."

"What happened…?" Trip asked, a little groggily. Then the wheels started turning…

"What the…?" He exclaimed, glaring at T'Pol and scrambling to get off the exam table without falling all over himself.

"Why did you _do _that? Are you crazy or something…?"

"You were becoming emotional." She said, putting the sleeping baby carefully back on the exam table. Very calm, very clear. Not at all the basket case she'd been only a moment before.

Trip just stared at her for a moment, amazed.

And, Archer suddenly realized, T'Pol had actually gotten the baby to sleep already. In less than ten seconds. Which was pretty impressive.

He wondered if he was maybe going crazy now or something. That he'd find _that _so interesting when his two highest ranking senior officers were arguing right in front of him. Immediately after each of them apparently had committed some small measure of violence only moments before.

Then again, with all the insanity in the room…maybe he was just adapting really well.

"So you…knock me out?" He asked. "Are you going to do that _every _time I become emotional?"

"You were threatening Doctor Phlox." She insisted, gesturing at the Denobulan. Who simply smiled happily at everyone.

That didn't help Archer with recovering his sanity very much.

"I wasn't…why would I…?" He stuttered. "I wasn't threatening anybody…!"

"You were." She said. "And you assaulted him as well."

"I…didn't assault…" Trip scrambled, suddenly trying to justify himself. "I just…knocked the hypospray out of his hand, that's all."

T'Pol cocked an eyebrow up at that.

Archer couldn't help but snort, trying to stifle a hysterical chuckle. Argument over, Trip. You just lost. And, yes, it would seem he finally had gone crazy.

"Hey, _you _assaulted _me_!" Trip countered. "I didn't knock anyone unconscious or anything."

_Okay, we have to do something now. Or I really am going to go crazy. And that thing about discipline on the ship or something, too._

"That's enough." He gruffed. All eyes on him suddenly. Good then, let's get this place in shape.

"Trip." He said, turning his attention there first. "Phlox told you the baby you thought was dying would be alright. And you got…a little irrational. I think that's understandable. So why don't you quit while you're behind. Sit there, quietly, until you get yourself together."

"Captain…" He argued.

"I said that's enough!" Archer barked. "Do I have to make 'sit down and shut up' an order, Trip?"

Trip shut up. And sat back down. He wasn't happy about it but that wasn't required anyway. So, one down…

"Phlox." He said. "Am I understanding this? The baby is alright now all of a sudden?"

"Her name is Elizabeth." T'Pol said, quietly.

Archer opened his mouth…but put the brakes on his initial impulse, to yell at her for interrupting him. Jonathan Archer didn't yell at people for introducing him to their children, after all.

"…thank you, T'Pol." He managed. "Phlox?"

"I've run all the standard genetic…" The doctor began.

"Short version please, Doctor."

"Well, I…" Phlox had to search for a moment before answering. As if 'short version' were a foreign concept to him. Which it probably was.

"Yes." He said. Though he clearly wasn't happy with that. But again, not necessary.

"Good." Archer said. "Now. I had a reason for coming to see my senior officers other than reminding them how to behave. But I can see that will have to wait. For now, both of you come with me."

He knew Trip would object before he even said it and was ready when he saw him open his mouth.

"Not a word, Trip! That's an order!" Archer barked. "Outside. Now."

Archer turned away, stalking for the corridor. Trip and T'Pol, thankfully, following him out without argument. Which was good. There would probably be yelling and shouting but better that it not be in Sickbay with…_babies _napping…

T'Pol needed to meditate and Trip needed a break. But first, it was time that these two were dealt with.


	6. Chapter 6

**D'Rianov Compound**

**I'Ramnua City, Romulus**

Rh'ev I'keara D'nhaih, favored D'kaleh to Senator D'sher, waited patiently in the dark. The cramped passageway afforded no comfort, quite the opposite. But patient endurance was a hallmark of his profession. One that all D'kaleh, of whatever house, prided themselves on. Rh'ev himself had been at this for many decades, so the associated discomfort was nothing new to him. Eventually the guard on the other side of the wall would fall asleep and their way would be open. He would wait all night if necessary, without complaint. In the meantime he began flexing and relaxing his legs slightly, keeping the blood flowing, prepared to move quickly and quietly when the time did come.

Eventually S'tel, his partner, twitched two fingers beside him, just within his peripheral vision. The signal that the guard had entered the deepest stages of sleep, least likely to be roused by ghosts moving through the room. They weren't here to kill anyone. Not today, at least.

Rh'ev reached forward carefully, pushing lightly on the edge of the panel immediately before him. Already lubricated and prepared to open without alerting anyone, it slid aside without a whisper. Stepping through, keeping to the balls of his feet, Rh'ev spent half a minute watching the guard, asleep at his post, sitting only a few feet away.

He focused on the guard's chest, his mind blank. Thinking nothing, passively regarding the rise and fall. He was less than a ghost, a sound unheard. He did not exist.

The guard didn't wake. He even began to snore lightly. So Rh'ev cleared the exit, moving deliberately across the warehouse floor to begin hacking the lock on the opposite portal. Behind him S'tel produced a small tube from which he silently sprayed an aerosol into the air above the sleeping guard. In a moment, the sedative would enter the man's lungs and render him beyond threat. They could practically host a drunken orgy in his lap after that with the guard none the wiser. At least for the next few minutes, after which the effect would wear off completely.

Rh'ev removed a miniature drone kit from his pocket, having bypassed the lock and spent a moment assembling it correctly. He sent it off, fluttering quietly around the crates that strategically blocked the view of the security sensors beyond. After a precious minute locating, hacking and bypassing the sensor suite for that wing of the palace, he flew the drone back on remote, dismantled it and was prepared to leave.

The entire process had taken less than three minutes. But it would be repeated, with minor variations, at least ten times as they moved through the building. At each point risking some wandering guard, or sleepy noble looking for a lavatory, or who knows what else stumbling upon them.

It was the unavoidable risk one counted on in that line of work. The only real certainty, that given enough time something would go wrong and chance would come seeking restitution for all the blessings it had bestowed before.

But that day was not today. Today they passed through the palace without a trace, in less than half an hour, reaching the private chamber of Senator D'Rianov entirely undetected.

* * *

The Senator was sitting at a table in the center of the room, hunched over something. Completely alone. For a moment Rh'ev lamented that he was not here to assassinate the man. He happened to like D'Rianov. Admired him greatly, in fact. But one could not have hoped for a more perfect opportunity.

As Rh'ev moved around, approaching stealthily from his left flank, the game board the Senator had engrossed himself in came into view. _Nhaiha_, a game of strategy. A seemingly simple game, deceptively complex in its actual execution. One moved colored stones about the board, with the goal of capturing territory and, eventually, control of the entire board. Simple enough in principle but requiring years of dedication to truly master.

_Nhaiha _meaning, simply, 'stones'. _Nhaih_, being the singular, 'stone', of course. Which happened to be the name of Rh'ev's own house.

And so Rh'ev knew the Senator had been expecting him.

Which was funny.

He chuckled, giving up any attempt to move quietly. S'tel was a little startled, halting in his approach from the Senator's right, but Rh'ev had been clear concerning orders that he remain silent and let him do all the talking. So it hardly mattered.

Senator D'Rianov peered over his shoulder casually.

"Ah. Rh'ev, you are here." He said. "Come, sit down. I'll have my servants tend to you immediately." He gestured at the chair across from him. S'tel would, of course, stand in the corner.

Rh'ev sat as directed, still smirking a bit. "D'Rianov. I have said it before and do not mind repeating…I truly hope I am never ordered to assassinate you. It would be bring a humiliating end to my career."

D'Rianov played along, smiling graciously as he clapped once to summon servants with refreshments. "Have some confidence, Rh'ev." He advised then, with mocking reassurance. "You are more skilled than you know. And perhaps fortune will favor you that day."

Rh'ev smiled in return but said nothing more. D'Rianov didn't mind a little banter…but only a _little_. Beyond that, he was always prepared to proceed straight to the matter at hand. And this whole farce didn't sit well with Rh'ev anyway, to be honest. His master, D'Sher, was showing his foolishness again. Senator D'Rianov wasn't someone to be intimidated by assassins suddenly appearing in his privacy. And, of course, the Senator had known he was coming anyway, it would seem.

"So. I know that Senator D'Sher hasn't grown bold enough to have me killed yet." He said, gesturing impatiently at the Reman servants to distribute the refreshments and depart quickly. "Let us tend to business then."

Rh'ev grimaced distastefully. He'd been given specific orders concerning what to say now, what he was supposed to imply. But he knew D'Rianov would see the whole thing as pointless, an obscene waste of time. If matters were important enough for a Senator to address them in the first place, then one should speak plainly. So Rh'ev compromised.

"I was told to say to you, 'The _ke'telk _vines flourish this year in the…'" Rh'ev began.

"Yes, yes." D'Rianov said, waving the matter aside. "Your master became aware several months ago that I import _ke'telk'v _illegally into Elehu. So he intends to secure my vote by threatening to reveal this, correct?"

Rh'ev hesitated…but there was really no other response the Senator would respect. So he simply nodded.

D'Rianov gestured at S'tel then, standing discreetly in the corner. "Let your second take your seat." He said. "It is late. Too late for business."

He stood, donning his sash. "We will walk in the garden. I will give you my response to D'sher's foolishness and you will deliver it to him. Then we can all go back to sleep."

* * *

Senator D'Rianov's garden was something to be envied, especially at night. Many of the vines sported glowing buds of various colors, affirming the intelligence Rh'ev was privy to, suggesting that a nighttime walk in the garden was something D'Rianov enjoyed often.

"Rh'ev D'nhaih, I will take an unusually measured approach tonight in what I wish to say to you." D'Rianov announced.

He was immediately concerned. _Any _change in behavior of a target was cause for concern. And while the Senator was not a _target _precisely, the principle certainly still applied.

"Very well." Rh'ev replied, as they strolled along the path. "I will listen, of course, Senator."

"You have served the Empire well, for almost a hundred years now." D'Rianov said. "And after all this time you are, even now, only D'kaleh to the Senate. I say 'to the Senate' because your masters have changed many times, of course. So in essence, you serve the Senate itself. You resolve disputes and aid us, in your own way, in coming to the agreements that would chart the course of the Romulan Star Empire. But you've never risen above this."

D'Rianov stopped then, gazing at Rh'ev. "I know why. And so do you." He said. "You love the Empire. You took to heart the propaganda of your childhood instructors, long ago. And when you became a man you began to measure your worth by how well you serve the Empire. You would say, 'Of what other use is a man?' Eventually, you realized that one's loyalty, one's dedication to the Empire, was the important point. The measure by which a man may gauge his own worth. Success or failure is unreliable, unpredictable."

"Dedication, loyalty, _intent_…" The Senator said, emphasizing the point with a single raised finger. "_That _is what matters. By that measure, there is no failure. A man can die in service to the Empire, fail completely in that way, yet still succeed gloriously."

Senator D'Rianov began walking again, taking the time to examine and enjoy his surroundings as he strolled through the garden, still speaking casually to the D'kaleh who could have easily been sent to kill him.

"So great is your love for the Empire then, so true your dedication, so reliable your loyalty…that you left a mate on Vulcan those many years ago. A Vulcan mate, no less. Psychically _bound _to you." D'Rianov said. "A child as well, I understand. Hardly an easy task, I can only speculate. And you have ended many lives and risked your own a thousand times over. Left many widows and fatherless children in your own footsteps. All because the Empire required it of you. And you did those things, without complaint, without bitterness. With regret, I know, of course. With pain, I realize. But you have sacrificed all the things by which any other man might measure himself in order to serve the Empire."

The Senator smiled across at him then. "So Rh'ev serves the Empire. That is who Rh'ev is. And because of this, Rh'ev can know he is a man."

Rh'ev wasn't made uncomfortable by D'Rianov's judgment of him. He didn't shuffle or frown, nor offer a polite disagreement. He fully agreed, in fact. Had the Senator asked him, he would said much the same thing.

"This is why _you _admire _me, _Rh'ev. Why I have your respect, after all these years." D'Rianov continued. "Despite my goals and those of your masters so often running contrary to one another. Because I am similar to you in that way. My concern is to serve the Empire. I do not love it as you do, I merely see the necessity of service. I enjoy the pleasures my office affords me and I recognize that I must return payment for that. Because if I do not, then _D'Rianov _is not a man. You see? So I serve the Empire. Because she serves me."

"So that is who D'Rianov is." He said. "But you know this. I merely confirm it. Now I will change the subject to another matter. It is related, as you will see. Come, up on the wall. Let me show you I'Ramnau from there."

Rh'ev followed without comment. But he was steeled inside already. Everything about the situation was threatening. D'Rianov was taking a long time getting to the point, completely out of character for him. And he was acutely aware that he'd allowed himself to be separated from S'tel. In truth, he was surprised. Moving against his master, Senator D'sher, hardly seemed worth such effort for D'Rianov. But nevertheless, it seemed suddenly clear that his chances of surviving the night had grown very slim.

Not because D'Rianov intended to have him killed. It was obvious that he didn't, hence the long speech designed to elicit understanding between the two of them. D'Rianov was moving against his master. And as soon as he confirmed that, Rh'ev would be forced to try to kill the man.

And he would certainly fail, dying in the attempt.

At the top of the wall he pretended to enjoy the view of I'Ramnau below but he prepared himself for his death. It was unfortunate but not unexpected. D'kaleh rarely 'retired' in any other way.

D'Rianov gazed down on the city below as well, smiling mildly, seeming completely at ease. "Consider I'Ramnua, Rh'ev. Pretend that each light below is a planet, a world. Full of people, societies, governments. This then is the known galaxy laid out below us. And each shadow is the Empire."

He looked over at Rh'ev again, still smiling. "And like these shadows, like the night itself, we own the whole city. Even the lights, which we will claim in time. For a hundred years we have moved through this city, undetected, unrecognized. You yourself spent a third of your life on Vulcan and none knew you were anything but a good, proper Vulcan engineer. And there are dozens of men like you for each of those points of light."

"Do you know why we have been so successful at this, Rh'ev?" The Senator asked.

Rh'ev shrugged. "Because we are superior to all other species. It is impossible for it to be otherwise…"

"Do not speak so foolishly again." D'Rianov warned. "You are quite aware of the situation and now is not the time to disappoint me. You would die where you stand."

Rh'ev smirked at that. He couldn't help it. There was no doubt that if the Senator decided he was wasting his time, he'd drop dead in one of a thousand different ways a heartbeat later. He did truly admire D'Rianov for that.

"We have been lucky." Rh'ev admitted. "Amazingly so."

"You are correct. In part." The Senator said. "As you know, most Senators are self-indulgent fools, like your master D'sher. Their concern is only that their failures might embarrassment them. Or worse, depose them, losing those precious little powers they so enjoy. And, of course, assassination. So their resolutions need not make any sense, need not serve the Empire. So long as it serves them personally and they risk nothing. That is their only concern."

"They rely on men like me, Rh'ev. Senators who strive to serve the Empire, who are willing to tolerate their stupidity and indulge their vices so long as they too can be forced to serve the Empire in the process, if only incidentally. Men like me must work around, work _through_, men like D'sher. And often we must oppose their movements directly where it would harm the Empire otherwise. And so you have the friction and disagreements that men like _you _must so often address."

"One particular area of concern for both myself and your master has been Vulcan. As you well know." D'Rianov said. "Like all other infiltrations, we have taken pains to conceal our existence. And most especially our identity. The reason would be simple in all other cases. Because it so greatly disrupts the morale of those who oppose us. And it hides our hand, most especially. As a D'kaleh you understand this well. It is better to move in the dark, to pull the rug from beneath the enemy's feet and strike them while blind, prone and defenseless. Anything else is foolishness. We leave the screaming frontal assaults to the Klingons."

"Not so with Vulcan, Rh'ev. There we conceal our faces because our cousins would _know _us otherwise. And they are the only ones who would truly know us in that instant. We will _never _show our faces to them. They will be destroyed never knowing who has struck them the fatal blow in the dark."

The Senator regarded him again, concern evidence in his tone. "And let us hope, Rh'ev, that the Senate is not foolish enough to take slaves and prisoners on that day. I tell you, we face no greater threat than Vulcan in all the galaxy."

D'Rianov considered the city below again, less pleased now and more grave. "Consider how we came to this place, in regards to Vulcan. We began hiding our faces from them for fear that our enemy would know us. And because of this we have moved slowly, with great caution and careful preparation toward that day when we reclaim that world. And it is a dustbowl, make no mistake. Worthless to us. It is _vengeance _we seek. The removal of a great threat. And, yes, affirmation of our superiority, even over our cousins. But in the process of this something very interesting has happened."

"Even now both the V'Shar and a handful of the Humans among their Starfleet know of us. Did you know this?" D'Rianov asked. "They know well our identity and the Humans even guess many of the more significant details."

Rh'ev almost denied awareness of that…but he was sure he wouldn't live to hear the point D'Rianov intended to make if he did. So he nodded. Yes, he knew well.

"And yet to the governments and people of both worlds we remain a mystery." The Senator continued. "Even their governments only begin to suspect that we pose a threat. And the people, those few who are even aware we exist, think us of no import. Both the V'Shar and the Human Starfleet hide that knowledge, guard it jealously."

"The V'Shar because they fear what will happen if the people were made aware. Their own government as well." He reasoned. "They would surely seek to reunite with us and would move to do so eagerly. And we would use that weakness against them, to draw close. To smile and slip the blade. The V'Shar know this and greatly fear it, rightly so. And after several decades of hiding this knowledge, they are now in the position that they must _continue _to do so, just as jealously. They have no other choice but to admit they've known all long and answer for that. Which they cannot do."

"The Humans likewise." He continued. "Certain members of Starfleet have known for at least three decades now. And they have used the threat of that knowledge to force concessions here and there, very tentatively, from the V'Shar. And through them, the Vulcan government that has held them at bay for so long. And now they too find themselves stuck behind the wall of lies they have built. Unable to allow this knowledge to be known or risk exposing themselves just as the V'Shar."

"Now both of these groups aid us in masking our identity from Vulcan. And from everyone else as well." D'Rianov chuckled. "Entirely despite themselves, they are our allies in this. Something we never planned for and certainly didn't expect. Quite a joke the universe has played on us all."

Turning fully to Rh'ev now, he said. "And so, this is why now is the time for us to strike."

Realizing the Senator was waiting for a response…Rh'ev wasn't sure what to say. The fact is, he agreed. They were almost fully prepared to move against Vulcan already, to invade the entire area of space and dominate. But there were new factors, new dangers that had presented themselves. The influence of the Humans in that area, specifically. It seemed better, as much as he hated to admit it, to wait. To continue as before…

"You cannot agree because you are cautious." D'Rianov nodded. "An admirable trait at any other time. Not so now. So many of our recent movements have failed, yes. It would seem the Human's need to consolidate the whole galaxy has driven them to oppose our efforts. And they have succeeded in several instances."

The Senator waved the matter aside, as if irrelevant. "But that is because those efforts have been foolish. The subversion of V'las and his placement as Director of the Vulcan High Command was badly handled. The man was so ruined in the process that he practically _screamed _at the Vulcans around him, on a daily basis. I don't know how he wasn't committed to an asylum. Or whatever is the Vulcan equivalent. And the drone ships…a pointless, stupid exercise. Allowed only because an equally foolish Senator believed it would make him look clever rather than completely ridiculous."

"And all these things, as well as all other failures that have occurred recently, are because we lack focus. We've nowhere else to go. We prepared the battlefield fully already so that there is nothing else to be done. And we dither rather than going to war. We prance about and play games, risking everything now because we are not bold."

D'Rianov shook his head. "No. The time is now. We _must _move now. Before this coalition forms. Vulcans, Humans, Andorians, Tellarites…every space faring people in the galaxy will join together if they are allowed to, despite all our efforts. And then we will find ourselves fenced in, captured already. With not so much as a single battle before we are defeated. Cattle, waiting to be butchered."

"Rather than waste our efforts trying to _prevent _the Coalition, so that we can go on 'preparing' for a war we will never fight, we must strike now, _before _the Coalition forms. Currently, only two things prevent the Senate from passing that very measure." D'Rianov said. "Two Senators in particular. I invite you to guess who, Rh'ev.

He knew, of course. "My master, Senator D'Sher is one."

D'Rianov nodded. "Of course. And the other?"

Rh'ev sneered with distaste. "Senator D'mek."

"You despise that one, I know." D'Rianov acknowledged. "Because you know he is the one who is responsible for V'las."

The Senator turned away again, looking out over the city. Rh'ev, he knew, was provoked to disgust now. And anger. Better to let him simmer in that.

"I know that you have suffered much because of that man." D'Rianov said. "And do not bother to deny it. I know that the mate you left behind died serving her people, endeavoring to recover the Kir'shara. To undo so much of what we have accomplished there. And you grieve her death. Rightly so, I say. She was a strong and noble woman. I would wish very much that she had been one of us. But she died because Senator D'mek placed a madman over the High Command. One who risked open war with Earth and Andoria, who bombed embassies and murdered pacifists."

"Yes, it would seem to help aid us in our goals. If one were a fool, it would certainly seem so. Paving the way for invasion, destabilizing the region. But V'las was a lunatic and served only to provoke _opposition _to us, before we were even known. Like your mate. She died because she was forced to stand against us. But she should never have been provoked to do so in the first place. That was utter foolishness."

"Likewise this Terra Prime nonsense. Again, what do you think will be the end result? Will the Humans cower on their planet? Or will the bold among them rise up and poke at the shadows, seeking us out to destroy us? You know very well. At this moment the talks of coalition crumble. And tomorrow they will begin again, with _new _men at the table. Men from all the space-faring races. _Bold _men, who recognize a threat and the need to stand against it. Stand _together_."

"We sneak close and slip the blade, Rh'ev. We whisper lies and spread dissent." He said, disgusted. "We do not throw rocks and bombs, screaming threats to the skies. That only forces our enemies to seek cover and band together."

D'Rianov was quiet for a while, staring down at the city. Allowing Rh'ev to consider all that he had said.

Until, at last…

"You know why you still live, Rh'ev." He said. "Why I have walked with you and talked with you tonight. Why we stand here together, enjoying the view of the city this night. And why the men in the shadows of this garden have not killed you."

"S'tel is already dead." He admitted, confirming what Rh'ev knew. "Do not grieve for him. He died well, in the service of the Empire. And he was a good man for that, so be glad instead."

D'Rianov tucked one hand into his sash, as if addressing the Senate, rather than the D'kaleh of a rival. "I will make a prediction. And then I will allow you to return to your master." He announced.

"When you return to him and report that I have refused to promise him my support…he will be angry. And impotent." He continued. "He dares not tempt me to destroy him by reporting the matter of the _ke'telk'v. _Instead, he will seek to consolidate his position, afraid that he has declared himself my enemy tonight. So he will remove D'mek from his hand."

At Rh'ev's narrowed eyes, D'Rianov nodded. "Yes, Rh'ev, D'mek belongs to your master. He is no rival, as he has made him out to be. Your master owns him. And tonight he will seek to use _you _to rid himself of him. You will learn the D'mek is the one who arranged this Terra Prime trouble for the Humans. And you will discover something that will tempt you to wrath against them. And against D'mek for ordering the thing they've done."

"Your master will pretend outrage on your behalf, claiming this as the moment to move against D'mek." D'Rianov said. "And he will send you to kill him. But not for _your _honor. Rather, because D'mek grows too strong and bold. Because he might threaten him.

"Then he will assure you that _he _will take over the management of Terra Prime himself. To use it well, correctly. To destabilize the Humans for the glory of the Empire and bring vengeance against the ones who have dishonored you. He will promise you that, to provoke your loyalty. And you will know then that your master is your enemy."

D'Rianov consider him for a long moment…then nodded.

"When you are done, return here." He said, already walking away.

When he reached the floor of the garden below, D'Rianov turned to look up at him again. "I already know what you will ask of me, Rh'ev, even if you do not. Know now that I will grant your request. But you know what you must do to earn it."

When he was gone Rh'ev stood alone on the wall, staring down at the city.

Or…not alone. Surely there were a dozen men, unseen, all around him. But as alone as a man could expect to be anywhere in the Empire these days.

After contemplating the matter for a nearly an hour, Rh'ev finally left the garden. Passing through the arch back onto the grounds, he allowed the Senator's guard to escort him out of the compound.

He stopped there for a quiet moment to honor his friend and partner of seven years, whose head now adorned the center spike of the gate. Taking a moment to close the man's eyes in peace, he wiped the blood carelessly on his sleeve and began the long walk back to the shuttle waiting for him behind the farthest hill.


	7. Chapter 7

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

After a few twists and turns they arrived at the Conference Room on Deck E. Archer preceded them through the door, jabbing a finger at the table when they entered behind him.

"Have a seat." He said.

Naturally, the two sat completely apart. On _opposite _sides of the table, across from one another. It didn't take a professional counselor to read _that_.

He moved to the head of the table, where he had clear line of sight on both of them. And they on him.

"First, let me remind you that I have a speech to deliver before the entire delegation at Starfleet Command in six hours." Archer began. "A speech I still have yet to prepare for. So I'm not going to appreciate it if I have to drag this out."

Archer folded his arms in front him. A defensive posture, he knew. But let's reinforce the 'shut up and listen' part of this.

"I've seen both of you grow quite a lot over the last four years." He said. "It wasn't that long ago Trip, that you shared my…_lack of appreciation _for Vulcans."

Trip glanced furtively over at T'Pol at that. But she didn't meet his eye.

"And I remember your opinion of us wasn't all that better, T'Pol." Archer pointed out, causing her to glance, despite herself, over at Trip. He didn't look back either.

"I've seen you both change your opinion of one another's species." Archer said. "And your opinions of each other as well. In less than a year I had an Executive Officer and Chief Engineer that worked well together. Enough that I was _proud _to have both of them on my ship."

With a slight pause, to emphasize his next statement…

"And I've noticed a few other things that I suspect neither of you knew I had. Things I'm not _supposed _to know."

"Number one." He said, taking a deep breath.

"I know that this neuro-pressure treatment Phlox recommended for you, Trip, was nothing more than our good Doctor taking advantage of the situation to play matchmaker." Archer said. "I think we're all aware of Denobulan boundaries when it comes to…romance. They haven't _got _any. So I don't believe for one second that neither of you considered there might be some _other _way to accomplish the same thing that _didn't _involve half-naked Vulcan massage therapy."

_Both _of them opened their mouths to object then…but he was ready for it.

"Be quiet!" He snapped. "This is _not _a discussion!"

Jaws snapped shut at the table.

Good. He was going to have to remember that phrase. It had proven effective two for two so far.

"Now maybe the two of you are too _pig-headed _to recognize what you were doing but I wasn't. Nor was anyone _else _on this ship." Archer pointed out. "I'm sure you're both aware that scuttlebutt began circulating rumors about the two of you behaving in a manner unbecoming that same week. It wasn't the neuro-pressure that convinced everyone, it was the two of you _both going along with it!"_

Pausing only long enough to glare properly one good time at each of them, he kept his momentum going.

"Number two." He said. "For this one we'll skip all the other gossip regarding you two up to this point. A certain 'morning after' conversation…_in the middle of the Mess Hall_…comes to mind. But I think another Enterprise coming along, captained by your _son_, speaks for itself! By that point even I would have said if Enterprise had been cut off from Earth and we were all forced into that same situation…the two of you would have stumbled all over yourselves to get a room!"

Trip was beginning to grit his teeth at that point…and sweat a little. And T'Pol was looking, in an odd enough twist on the phrase, rather green.

So, yes, he was yelling at them. But the situation warranted it, he was certain. They should feel lucky he wasn't smacking them around the place.

"By that time everyone on the ship had every reason to believe the two of you were a couple." Archer said, tightly. "There wasn't any question. We all knew it. But we didn't _talk _about it. Because there are certain regulations we all have to be aware of….everyone except the two of _you_, apparently, considering you decided to run off to Vulcan together on _leave!"_

Archer began pacing then. "That's when I was first faced with the prospect of having to call the two of you into this room and have this conversation! Because that's not the sort of thing that goes unnoticed. Not on this ship, not at Starfleet Command and not even with _the civilian press!_"

Not surprisingly, neither of them were looking anywhere near each other then, Archer noted.

"Except the strangest thing happened then." He continued. "Trip comes back alone and T'Pol returns days later. And the marital status on her personnel file suddenly changes. And it's not Trip's name on that form, either. So you can imagine I found all of this a little confusing. Especially when your relationship didn't seem to have changed at all. I was sure then that I'd been wrong all along. That you two really _were _just good friends."

"Which brings us to 'number three'." Archer said, folding his arms again and staring the two down. He could tell they both knew exactly what was coming.

"After watching your…'good friendship' devolve into _constant bickering _over a five month period…even _after _T'Pol's marital status changed _again _out of the blue…my Chief Engineer suddenly requests a transfer to the Columbia."

"Which didn't puzzle me as much as you seemed to assume, Trip." He said. "I knew the moment you made the request why you were making it. And I'm more than a little disappointed you wouldn't admit to it."

"Now I could go on to number four, where Trip suddenly returns again, in no hurry to leave." Archer shrugged. "Or five, the transfer request he put in, _back _to the Enterprise days _before _that. Or six, seven or eight and so on! But I think you're getting the point. You haven't fooled anyone. In fact, I'd guess I knew more about your relationship than the two of _you _did most of the time!"

"And that brings us to just a few days ago." Archer said. "Where no one on this ship has _any _idea _what _the nature of your relationship is. Which would be ideal, in regards to the regulations I mentioned, except that it apparently includes _the two of you!"_

"What I saw in Sickbay shouldn't have surprised me." He said. "After everything the two of you have been through over the last three days _and _the last few months, I should have expected at least one of you would…react badly. But the fact is that the current situation just doesn't allow for it. Considering Doctor Phlox hasn't paged any of us since we got here suggests his current prognosis is still in effect. And that leaves the two of you with a baby you have to decide what to do with."

He paused for a moment then. He'd made it through all that without allowing any argument or back talk, so he could tone it down a bit now as he approached the point of it all.

"So I'm going to speak to both of you as someone who used to be _friends _with both of you." Archer said, allowing some small amount of care to show through this time. "Then I'm going to speak to you as your Captain."

"First, as a friend." He said. "Get your damned act together. Figure out what kind of relationship you're going to have and have it. Friends, lovers, fellow officers, I don't care. But settle this. At least enough to sit down and decide what you're going to do about that baby. And whatever that is, I think you can count on all of us to be there for you."

"Now, as your Captain." He said, sternly. "I don't _want _to know what kind of relationship you two have. And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop bringing it to my attention. I prefer to be able to answer honestly that I have no idea, should the question ever be put to me. All I need to know is that my two senior officers have a reliable, strong, very professional working relationship. Anything other than that is and will remain beyond my comprehension."

Archer stared at them both for a while.

They didn't have anything to say, which would normally have just irritated him. But for this situation…it was ideal.

"I'm going to go prepare for that conference. You two are going to stay in this room until you come to an agreement on those two points. What exactly your relationship is and what you're going to do about that baby. _Then _you can go to Sickbay, assuming that's where you both intend to go. And when I get back…we're all going to sit down together and figure out how to make that happen, whatever it is you've both decided on."

"_Otherwise_…if you fail to come to an agreement…and if I don't see a _complete _reversal in your professional relationship as senior officers…then I'm going to be forced to start asking questions about your _personal _relationship. Asking as your _Captain_. And as Starfleet Officers, I will expect you to answer those questions honestly and without reservation, fully prepared to accept the consequences that result."

"Now, are there any questions?" Archer asked. He already knew there wouldn't be, though.

After a moment, he nodded. "Good. Then I'll see you both when I get back."

* * *

As the Captain left the room, Trip was more than a little relieved. The last couple of hours had already provided just about all the overwhelming stress he could handle for the week anyway. And despite the fact the he'd spent most of the time yelling at the two of them pretty darned harshly, he'd still had trouble focusing on Jonathan's latest tirade for worrying about Elizabeth. It had made him more than a little irritated having to deal with all this right now.

But he was right, of course. They were well overdue for settling a few things between them. And the baby left them no room to avoid doing so any more…

And he knew T'Pol well enough to know that allowing her to get the ball rolling was a terrible idea. Who knows what she'd come up with.

He cleared his throat. "Okay…" He said. Then found himself scrambling mentally for something to toss out there…

"Look, I'm sorry about how I acted in Sickbay." He said, figuring that'd be a good place to start. "I…was irrational, you're right. A little…but…I'm sorry." He said.

Then he smiled, chuckling lightly. "In fact, it's probably best you knocked me out like that. I might have embarrassed myself or something."

T'Pol was silent for a little longer than he'd have liked, still staring straight ahead. As if the Captain were still on a tear and she continued to wait patiently for it to wind down. So maybe self-deprecating humor wasn't going to be very helpful with drawing her out a bit...

She sighed quietly then, turning to face him finally. "Trip…" She said, uncertainly. "I appreciate the admission. But I still think I…overreacted. Though I don't know what else I could have done."

She took another breath.

"I am finding it difficult to adjust to our bond." She admitted. "It continues to…I have no experience with being mated and it continues to elicit…behavior that I am unprepared for."

He decided to move carefully now. If she were stumbling over her words here then that was usually a good sign she was about to take to her feet and starting running.

"Well, whatever the Captain says I think we've been getting along pretty well the last few weeks." He suggested. "A lot better than we have the last few months. But…he's right about…I think we have to talk about what kind of relationship we're trying to have here. And…T'Pol, the baby, Elizabeth…that changes _everything_."

She nodded tiredly. "Yes, it does."

"Okay." He said. "Why don't…look, let's just lay our cards on the table here."

He ran his hand over his face, already frustrated, no idea where to start…except…

Well, yeah. She was probably going to end up getting all emotional and running down the corridor anyway, so…

"When I was on the Columbia…" He said, hesitantly. "I finally realized…I finally realized that I'd been chasing you around all this time and not getting anywhere. I wasn't ever going to get what…we just weren't ever going to have…_that _kind of relationship. So I just gave up on it. And…came back to Enterprise and stopped..."

He sighed, dropping his hand to the table with a slight smack. He was already frustrated. He was really terrible at this.

"You implied that we would work on our relationship." T'Pol said. Almost accusing.

It took him a second to put the pieces together there…

"You mean, in the corridor that time?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes. You said, 'I guess we have a lot of…'"

"I know what I said." He interrupted, frowning. "I said, _'we'_. Together, both of us. Instead of me chasing you all over the ship."

She frowned at that. "I object to your characterization." She said. "I don't think…"

"You can object all you like, T'Pol." He said, firmly. "I'm telling you how I felt and what I was thinking."

It was quiet for a moment. Trip waiting for her to respond and she trying to decide how to.

"Trip." She said. "I will tell you what I am thinking."

He frowned. She'd nicely edited 'feeling' out of there. But he listened anyway.

"I do not know how to…I have never been bonded..._mate _bonded...and I no longer have an example of this to refer to." She said, her voice almost trembling. Which put all of Trip's senses on alert.

"My parents are gone. And there are no other bonded couples I can look to for insight." She said. "And you are not Vulcan. I am still unsure how to…"

A light suddenly went off in Trip's head. A big glaring one. A flare bright enough to make him twitch a bit.

"Wait…wait a minute…" He said, his eyes closed. Trying to flail about and grasp at whatever had just lit up his brain.

"…I'm not Vulcan." He said at last, teetering on the brink of revelation. "What if I was?"

T'Pol stared at him. "What?"

"What if I was Vulcan?" He asked. "What then?"

T'Pol considered for a moment, not sure what the point of _that _was.

"We would not be having this conversation." She said. _Obviously._

"What would we be doing, then?" He insisted, pressing the point.

She frowned a bit. This was entirely irrelevant. "We would likely be in Sickbay, caring for Elizabeth."

"_Then _what?" He asked quickly.

T'Pol thought about that for a moment. Her obscenely intimate behavior in Sickbay hours ago immediately came to mind. Quite strongly to mind, in fact. They would most probably be doing _that _again…

But at the flutter in her stomach in response to that idea, she shoved it out of mind quickly.

"I suppose…once Elizabeth's care had been seen to…" She hesitated. "We would retire and…rest. We would meditate together. And then discuss her health and…the impact all of this would have on our service to Starfleet. To determine the most logical response to the situation."

"In our quarters?" He asked.

"Of course." She said. They certainly wouldn't be discussing such things in the _corridor_, after all.

"We don't share quarters, T'Pol." He pointed out.

She started to respond…but something about that didn't seem quite right. She began searching for where exactly the two points diverged…

"So because I'm Human…" Trip offered. "We aren't taking care of Elizabeth, resting in our quarters and having logical discussions about things."

Racing ahead she realized just what she had implied. In point of fact, what she had confirmed. And found she was unwilling to examine that any more closely at the moment. Not at all.

So she changed the subject.

"And if I were Human, how would you respond differently?" She challenged.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation." He said.

She nodded, justified.

"Because there'd be nothing to discuss." He added.

Which didn't make any sense to her. "What do you mean?"

"T'Pol, if you were Human…then the morning we…" He hesitated then. "When you called the whole thing an 'experiment', I would have…"

"The word I used was 'exploration'." She corrected. "'Experiment' was _your _description."

"Well, whatever." He said. "The fact is I wouldn't have had anything else to do with you. In fact, you'd probably be a lot happier today. We'd have had a perfectly _Vulcan _relationship after that. I figured you just weren't…"

"What do you mean 'Vulcan relationship'?" She asked. Clearly offended.

"I mean we'd get along about as well as you and Mayweather do." He said. "Or you and Hoshi. Or Malcolm. You'd probably be closer to the Captain. We sure wouldn't be _bonded. _And Terra Prime sure would have never picked _us _for their little…_whatever _that was supposed to be..."

T'Pol flinched. _Had he just…? He couldn't possibly…? _

She stood up, cutting him off.

"This conversation is over." She said, glaring furiously at him. And stomped for the door.

Trip sighed. "Captain said we…"

"I don't care!" She snapped.

And she was out the door and gone.

* * *

Trip leapt for the door and darted through, hot on her heels…

…just in time to see her exit one of those heels and perform the most amazing faceplant he'd ever seen. Right in the middle of the corridor.

One shoe spinning insanely off into the air, as if shot from a cannon, to strike the ceiling with a '_pop_'!

Face down, sliding at least half her length…both feet, one shod and one not, snapping back behind her…nearly touching her _head_…!

She even '_oofed'_. Loudly.

And then she just lay there.

Face down in the carpeting, only one shoe on, her arms splayed out at an odd angle...

_She's out cold! _He thought. Alarm, like an icy bolt of lightning, struck him clear through at the realization.

But when he dived, almost bodily, to her side to care for her…he found she was still conscious after all. Staring at the floor beside her. As if she had simply lain down to examine the fabric more closely.

"T'Pol…?" He ventured.

And she looked up at him. As calm and centered as he'd ever seen her.

He offered his hand, which she accepted, helping her to sit up. But she let go sooner than he would have preferred, reaching to retrieve the errant shoe.

As she replaced it, fastening the clasp that had come undone, she spoke at last.

"I am fine, Commander." She said.

"T'Pol…you just fell pretty hard…" He said, awkwardly.

"I am fine." She assured, standing up again.

As he rose himself she spoke further.

"The Captain has ordered us to come to an agreement." She noted. "I believe that is not possible. So I will offer my terms."

Trip frowned, worried. "Your terms?" He said. "T'Pol…look, maybe we should go sit down…"

"We will work together to care for Elizabeth." She said, ignoring his interruption. "And at the first available opportunity I will return to Vulcan to have our bond severed. Once that is done…"

"Wait, what?" Trip exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"After that…" She continued. "We will meet again to discuss custody of the child. I do not believe it will be necessary…"

_"Custody?"_

"I do not believe it will be necessary to involve legal services." She continued, unabated. Calm, maddeningly rational.

Trip just stared. Amazed. Confused.

And angry. He was beginning to get very angry.

"T'Pol." He warned. "Don't you dare…"

"You are becoming emotional." She observed. "We will discuss this further at another time, when you have collected yourself."

"We will discuss this _now!" _Trip insisted, grabbing her arm.

With a raised eyebrow she looked down at his hand before meeting his eye again.

"Commander Tucker, if you do not remove your hand I will forced to remove it for you."

Something inside him snapped then. Something very cold.

He let go.

And let go of the snarl disfiguring his face as well.

Let go of every-damned-thing else while he was at it.

"Fine." He said, coldly. "I suppose we're done then."

She observed him for a long moment…then nodded succinctly.

"Good evening, Commander."

And she walked away. Leaving Trip hard and bitter in the corridor behind her.

For the last time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warehouse 12, Easy Street**

**Utopia Colony, Mars**

As the last non-descript cargo van pulled into the warehouse, disgorging several more officers to shore up their numbers, Sally Granger was a little discouraged. She practically had an army laid out before her. At least twenty officers and a dozen back up support. Far too many men for her to command effectively. She'd asked for six.

Mars Admin had simply gone nuts when confronted with Paxton sitting on the array. She'd had to practically beat them off with a stick already. And she still had too many men.

She sighed, tapping at the display table before her. Calling up the building's layout and arranging the various displays where they are were all easily visible. She called out once the last of the officers seemed to have found their footing.

"Alright!" She announced. "Gather around! Quickly!"

One man in particular, already at the table across from her, spoke up immediately.

"Excuse me." He said. "I'm Captain Butler, Utopia PD. I'll be supervising this operation."

Sally glanced over him…

Dark hair, cut short…moustache, thick…broad shoulders, strong arms…confident stance, commanding obedience and respect…testosterone on a stick...

She nodded. "Yes, Captain Butler, I recognize you from your file. As your section head must have informed you, Starfleet Intelligence has been granted jurisdiction here."

"With all respect, ma'am." He argued. "I'm not sending my men…"

"Excuse me, Captain." She interrupted. "That would be _Lieutenant Granger_. Commander, in fact, if you don't want to wait for confirmation to go through."

He frowned. "_Lieutenant_." He conceded. "I'm not sending my men into harm's way under the command of some S.I. who just stepped off a shuttle a half hour ago."

"No one is asking you to do that, Captain." She assured. "I'll be doing that myself. You're free to wait here if you prefer."

That brought the matter to a head nicely, she noted. Pissing contest. So let's get that out of the way…

"I won't be waiting here, _Lieutenant_." He commanded. "I'll be supervising this raid. Now, why don't you just stand aside and let the police officers here do their jobs?"

"An excellent suggestion, Captain." She agreed. "And I will do that. Once I have informed you what that job will be."

Turning her attention to the men around her, already focused on the…_conversation _the two of them were having. She spoke quickly and clearly…before the good Captain could interrupt again.

"Listen up!" She yelled. "There's seems to be a point of confusion. Allow me to address that. As of 13:30 hours, local time, Starfleet Intelligence has taken command of any and all actions and investigations pertaining to the incident at the verteron array, by the authority of Starfleet Command, the Office of the President of United Earth and Mars Central Administration. And they have chosen to exercise that authority through me."

"What this essentially means to you is that every Starfleet Officer and employee on Mars now works for me." She said. "As do all of you. And every other police officer and government employee in any way associated with this incident. Which would be anyone I _decide _is associated."

She waited a moment for it to sink in…but not long enough for anyone to voice an objection.

"I have no intention of micro-managing your department, nor your adjudication regarding this incident." She assured. "But I will be directing it. And you will follow that direction. I am prepared to dismiss anyone who threatens to interfere with resolving this matter successfully. Even if that means every one of you goes home for the week without pay and I'm forced to draft entirely from Starfleet Security at the Fleet Yard in orbit."

"But I know that will not be necessary." She said, with a shrug. "The Martian Law Enforcement Department enjoys a stellar reputation. One recognized even on Earth. I have no doubt of your cooperation, nor of your ability to carry out your orders effectively."

She smirked openly then. "Quite frankly I consider Paxton's decision to operate from here highly questionable, considering it brings him into conflict with _you_. I'm sure he wished there were a verteron array available somewhere _else _in the system. And if he doesn't yet, he soon will."

Looking the men over she could see she'd scored a point or two with most of them…but hardly all. She'd have to rely on that 'stellar reputation' with the remaining few, it seemed.

"This is the situation." She announced, folding her hands at her back. "Starfleet Communications at the Fleet Yard intercepted four non-standard coded communications between Mars and Luna in the hour leading up to Paxton's warping his facility here. We are operating under the assumption that Terra Prime has a 'spotter' on Mars. This would be someone who's job it is to prepare the area for Paxton's arrival."

"That could include anything up to infiltration of security at the array, sabotaging sensors systems to delay detection and interdiction…or merely securing supplies for his facility once it arrived. In light of that, tracing the communications here to this district of Utopia Colony puts it under the spotlight. And as this relay station is one of only two by which subspace messages could have been transmitted…the other being your department headquarters…our first target is here."

"The points you need to be aware of are these…Terra Prime is a xenophobic organization, characterized by pathological hatred of any and all non-humans. They utilize, and have utilized, terrorist tactics both to evoke support from those that share their views and to suppress those who do not. And they have reached, with this action, a point where organized opposition by force is required."

"They are well aware of that. And they are counting on it. So you can expect they have two goals in mind henceforth. To cause as much terror and destruction as possible and to die in that endeavor. None of the suspects you face from here forward can be expected to see submission or surrender as an option. Most of them will be actively seeking to kill and be killed. I expect you to be prepared for that."

She turned back to Captain Butler then. "Now, Captain Butler has a plan for this raid that will require all your skill and experience to accomplish in a manner that will bring terror to Terra Prime in return. And as that is exactly what I expect from you all, I assume you'll play close attention and devote yourselves fully."

"Captain." She nodded, indicating that he should proceed.

* * *

To their credit it took less that fifteen minutes for the three squads Captain Butler had formed out of the mess to control the whole building. There was a disturbing amount of screaming, crashing and various things breaking in the process…but when she entered through the front she found every employee in the place already on their knees on the floor, cuffed and in the process of being identified.

No one had escaped out the back door, at least, and would it appear no one had even had to be stunned. So she was, overall, very satisfied.

Scanning the room Sally located Captain Butler, giving him a nod of appreciation, before heading straight for the employees. An even twenty, in four rows of five. Every one of them looking thoroughly terrified.

Every one of them.

It took her two minutes, busily ignoring Captain Butler's attempts to get her attention, to search the faces before her. To be absolutely sure.

But it was obvious almost right away…

"They're not here." She said, finally.

"What?" Butler demanded, at her shoulder.

"They're not _here_." Se repeated.

"This is every daytime employee in the place." He insisted. "We just ran it, like I was trying to tell you. No one's at lunch or hiding in the bathroom..."

She shook her head. "Then someone from outside."

"This is a subspace comm relay station." He denied. "They don't have _customers _coming through here!"

She ignored him, closing her eyes to reexamine the layout of the building from memory...

Comm electronics access in _this _room…secondary relay assembly _there_…offices…lunch room…back door, hallway, lavatory…security office _there_…maintenance room…generator…waste disposal…

She turned her attention to the man sweating heavily, three down from the right. Overweight, maroon tie. Frightened _and _irritated. Several employees looking to _him _for reassurance. Supervisor.

"Where is your janitorial staff?" She asked.

The man blinked, confused. "I…we don't have…"

"Who empties the trash?" She demanded.

"Uh…uh…commercial service. GMS Agencies…"

"How many?"

"What…I…?"

"How many _people _do they send?"

"Uh…one…just one. We don't usually need…"

She marched quickly to the reception desk nearby.

"The _janitor_?" Butler asked. "How do you know it's not outside maintenance? Or somebody's grandmother?"

"It's the janitor." She said firmly, already working the comm station.

Too much background noise…

"Quiet!" She shouted, calling up the local directory. Some whimpering could still be heard from the employees on the floor but at least the officers stopped shuffling around talking.

Almost immediately she had the agency representative onscreen before her.

"_GMS Agencies_." He said.

"Hi!" She said brightly. "Selena, over at the relay. Can you send your guy out? We've got a bit of mess over here."

She smiled, embarrassed. It was just an _awful _mess over here…

"_No problem, ma'am. We'll have someone there in fifteen minutes."_

"The usual guy, right? What's his name?"

"_Uh…S'ton, ma'am?"_

S'ton.

Her blood went cold...

"Right! That's him. So fifteen minutes? It's kind of _leaking_…" She grinned.

"_Fifteen minutes, ma'am, that's our guarantee. I'm afraid S'ton is out today, though. Our replacement is very reliable, if that's…."_

She closed the connection and turned to Butler.

"S'ton, Vulcan. Young, in appearance and age." She advised, already thinking aloud. "Recent military training. A radical…"

He mind began racing. "…not spaceport…need a quick out…Jupiter orbit…boomers…"

She realized she'd gotten caught up, not making any sense to him. She shook her head.

"He's prepared." She said. "He needs to get off Mars. He knew what Paxton's demands would be and what effect they'd have…"

But Captain Butler had caught on and was already ahead of her…

"If he's a Vulcan citizen then he's hitching a ride at the embassy." He said.

She started for the door, nodding agreement. "That's it!"

"Ballinger!" He snapped behind her. "Your men stay here. The rest of you, load up. Let's go!"

Sally had her communicator out as she stepped into the lot, making the call to Group Two. Starfleet Security on loan from the Fleet Yard, currently roaming the district waiting for her call.

"_Collins."_

"Deploy. GMS Agencies." She said, "1154 Olympus Street. Secure for intel."

"_En route."_

Butler's men began flowing past her as she pocket the communicator, diving back into the vans that they'd only just jumped out of…

"What the hell is a Vulcan doing working for Terra Prime, Lieutenant?" Butler asked, coming up behind her.

He didn't sound very convinced at all. A xenophobic terrorist group employing an alien spotter…that just didn't make any sense. So the S.I. chick running them all in circles was _wrong_…she didn't know what the hell she was doing...

But she didn't answer. S'ton _wasn't _working for Terra Prime. He _couldn't _be...

* * *

The embassy port was unusually crowded, well over a hundred Vulcan citizens waiting patiently for a ride to…wherever. Most of them probably taking a short 'vacation' to avoid the violence they imagined would be flowing through the streets soon. Just as many were likely taking Paxton's threat to heart and finding a convenient excuse to visit the home world for a while.

At least a hundred and twenty, Sally estimated. Packed into a room meant to accommodate eighty, at most. She, Butler and the other two plainclothes officers were still going to stick out like sore thumbs in there, though.

_Damn_.

She pulled her head back, having poked it around the corner for a look. Butler to her right, staring. The other two detectives behind him. A dozen armed and armored officers waiting behind _them_…

She closed her eyes, her head resting against the wall behind her…

Perfectly square room….four supporting pillars, providing cover…seating area to the left, a third of the floor space…service counters to the right…two Humans working there…a cornucopia of potential hostages…

She turned to Butler. "Give me an ear piece."

He simply turned to one of the armored officers, snapping his fingers, and had it yanked out of _his _ear to hand to her. A nice, hardly noticeable little nub. She jammed into her ear. _Deep_. Out of sight.

"Okay, you two come in at thirty seconds." She said, indicating the two detectives behind Butler. "Walk in together. You're looking for a co-worker there. Walk straight into the crowd. Smile, just a little. You're co-workers, haven't bothered getting the hang of hiding your emotions."

"You're in next, one minute later." She said to Butler. "Go left, read something. Code word's '_tranush_'. I say it, you send in the cavalry."

"What are you…?" Captain Butler asked.

"Thirty seconds, one minute." She said. "Code word, '_tranush_.' It's a Vulcan word, easy to miss if you don't speak the language. '_Tranush_', got it?"

Butler frowned. "_'Tranush'_. I got it. Now what are you doing?"

"I'm going to the counter." She said. "I'll call S'ton from there, you move into position when I have his attention."

She spoke to all three of the detectives then.

"Vulcans have sharp ears and predatory instincts, so move _casually_. Not quietly or stealthily…_casually. _Calmly." She warned. "Male Vulcan, so he won't smell you…but he will _hear _you. And his hearing is sharp enough to identify Humans moving in behind him. So don't give him a reason to."

"Thirty seconds, then one minute." She said, to Butler again. "_Tranush_."

She stepped around the corner and into the eerie calm ahead…turning sharply right just inside the door. Down the short walkway and through the door beyond, clearing marked 'Employees Only' in both English Standard and Vulcan.

She was spotted almost immediately. A Vulcan attendant leaving her post behind the counter to her left, following her toward the locker room beyond.

"Excuse me." She said behind her, very politely. "This areas is limited to employees only."

Sally ignored her, forcing her to follow into the room while she spoke…out of sight of the counter and the crowd of Vulcans beyond.

"I must ask you to leave." The woman advised, "May I escort you?"

She'd followed her to the room…but wasn't foolish enough to step _inside _the room, alone with the Human who'd wandered where she didn't belong. Sally displayed her ID then, safely out of sight.

"_Yel-Halitra Su'zamas_." She said. Starfleet Intelligence. Then she waited…Vulcans don't do surprises very well…

"_I see_." The woman said, after a moment. "_What do you require_?"

"_Your vest and identification tag_." She replied. "_I_ _will take your place at the counter. Please step inside and wait here until further directed._"

The attendant entered the room, already removing her vest.

"_Is there a danger to the other employees or to the clientele?" _She asked, handing over the vest with attached tag.

"_We are prepared." _Sally replied. _"There should be minimal risk."_

She couldn't tell if the woman was put at ease by her assurances, which indicated her control was impressive. She was a pretty good reader, even with Vulcans.

The identification tag, though….Sally examined it closely once she had it in hand.

A picture ID…red background, brown border…the woman was wearing red lip balm in the picture, like most Vulcans expected to interact with Humans regularly…but she wasn't wearing it now…

"_Do you have bru'wein?" _She asked.

Without so much as a blink, the attendant produced the tube from her pocket. Taking it, Sally tucked the vest under one arm and twisted the bottom of tube until the red-tinted lip balm poked out a bit…dabbing it on one finger before handing it back.

She smeared her finger across the top left corner of the ID badge, intersecting the picture and obscuring it, just enough that it would defeat any but the most careful inspection. Holding it up for examination…it blended perfectly with the color of the badge itself.

She dressed quickly…and found the attendant had stepped forward to make some minor adjustments. Sally guessed the embassy must be particular about dress codes.

"_Very efficient." _Sally noted. _"You will wait here now."_

She moved immediately to the vacant counter outside, just to the right of the entrance to the work area. _63 seconds_, she noted. The two detectives in her peripheral vision, already moving through the crowd. Scanning faces, smiling slightly, talking casually to one another.

She tapped at the console at the work station she'd hijacked. Still not looking at the crowd herself. A busy employee, hard at work…searching service tickets for a particular name…

_S'ton T'wehk'limuk'fi'puthrap-tor'kunel-zhel'ket'lio_. Destination…Station 13, Jupiter orbit…Departure…18 minutes…give or take, Vulcan time measurement…flying alone, no one with him…one carry-on bag…

Wait a minute…

_T'wehk'limuk'fi'puthrap-tor'kunel-zhel'ket'lio_. 'Many faces on…burning mountains of…offense'? No, on burning offense mountain.

Easy translation, not Traditional Golic…modern...a newer clan then, just a couple of hundred years old…right, she recognized it now…a low-caste clan, title taken from the poem…the offense of emotional...

That's not a coincidence. An actual name but a false identity. The real S'ton was decomposing in the sand somewhere on Vulcan...but the _name_...chosen because 'S'ton' _enjoyed _all the subtle implications…

Implications only a Vulcan would recognize..._after _the fact...

That was just…weird…

90 seconds. Captain Butler would be walking in…there he was…glancing around casually, then moving left around the crowd, reading something on a PetPadd in his hand…

Sally tapped the intercom.

"_S'ton, passenger 34224." _She announced. "_Present yourself at service desk one for ticket adjustment."_

Hopefully the two Humans working further down that counter to her right weren't _too _noticeable. The Vulcans had all assessed her and dismissed her as beyond their concern. Those two were still curious…

"_I am S'ton." _A voice said before her. "_What is the problem?"_

She lifted her eyes from the console. Just another day at work for her, another passenger needing a random adjustment for something or other…

Young, well toned…alert stance, paranoid…eyes sharp, focused on her but…left ear twitching, just slightly…he was listening…a tick of the eyes to the left…he wanted to get _back _into the crowd, out of the open…

"_Offer your ticket_." She said, her voice laced with boredom. Just another day…

He handed it over as asked…but his breathing…a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth…he was irritated already…focused on her now, though…

Sally examined the ticket closely…then handed it back.

"_This seems to be correct_." She said. "_We are in error and acknowledge your patience_."

Patience.

In Vulcan, "_Tranush."_

"Utopia PD! Show me your hands!" The shout rang out, startling nearly every Vulcan in the room, including S'ton. Vulcans didn't do surprises very well…

Both detectives already behind him, weapons drawn, aimed at him.

"Show me your hands! _Now_!" The detective on the left, shouting. Captain Butler scooting in from the right now, weapon drawn…

S'ton continued to stare at her…not startled anymore…_angry _now, eyes darting, but focused on _her_…assessing the height of the counter…

She drew her weapon, tucked beneath her shirt at her back. Weaver stance, aiming right at his face in an instant.

"_I'll burn a hole right through your brain!" _She warned. "_Raise your hands! __Now__!" _

…and he _sneered _at her!

"_Your weapon is set to stun_." He smirked…

…and _jumped _for the counter, vaulting over…

Four phase pistols opened fire.

* * *

Sally was busy wringing her hands, trying to overcome the shakes a bit. Noradrenaline _sucked_.

Embassy security was on the scene anyway, less than a minute after they'd dropped S'ton. Their leader debating the matter with Captain Butler, disagreeing with the decision not to include his office in the arrest. Butler broke off soon enough, stepping around the three officers cuffing and checking the unconscious Vulcan on the floor. He'd had enough of arguing and had simply walked away mid-sentence.

"Dumb ass Vulcans." He groused to her.

She winced. The dumb asses in question had certainly overheard his remark.

"Okay." She said. "No one talks to him. Strip him, straight through booking to interrogation. I want him waking up there, right across from me, if we can manage it."

"So, you know this guy?" Butler asked, curious.

"Huh?" She said, surprised. "No. Why?"

"You said he was young and he is. And I'm guessing you're right about his service record…"

"Oh. No." She said, catching on. "The name, 'S'ton'. Not very common up until this generation. And all Vulcans go through military service as soon as they become adults. Wouldn't be off-world otherwise. Radical because…well, he's young. You don't do this sort of thing at a young age without throwing yourself into it."

"Huh." He said, impressed.

She smiled slightly. _Yeah, thanks._

"Look. I need him out of here soonest." She said. "As in _right now_. I've got a bad feeling…"

"_What the hell?" _To her right, detective Armstrong. "_Crap! Back! Get back!"_

Gasps of astonishment around the room…scuffling, Human and Vulcan…people stumbling back in alarm…

She jerked her head around…but she already knew…

S'ton's body had just burst into flames.


	9. Chapter 9

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

Malcolm Reed entered the Forward Armory Diagnostic Bay. Truth be known it was the most secure spot on the entire ship. Secure from outside surveillance anyway, something that Security kept to themselves just for such an occasion. Every security officer on the ship not already busy with some crucial aspect of the investigation was there ahead of him, waiting for him to arrive.

"As you were." He said. They'd jumped to attention when he entered. They were all on edge, he knew. The meeting had been described as informal, so standing at attention wasn't quite expected of them…

But it would prove to be critical despite all that, he knew.

Standing at ease before his men he got right to the point. However reluctant he was at even having this meeting, that seemed the best approach to him.

"You all know why we are here." He said. "One of our crewmen, it would seem, was a member of Terra Prime. From what we have gathered so far, it would appear he took it upon himself to sabotage a shuttle, placing Doctor Phlox and three senior officers, including the Captain, at risk."

Frowning with distaste at what was to come, he continued. "And our investigation has uncovered a number of other crewmen with links to Terra Prime as well. In light of that…Ensigns Russell and Turner. Step forward."

Surprised, the group shuffled in place, glancing around at one another muttering. After a moment, two sheepish Ensigns stepped away to stand hesitantly to the side.

"Leave the room." Malcolm ordered, without turning his head to look at either of them. "You are relieved of duty for the next forty-eight hours."

Ensign Russell spared a troubled glance at the other officers standing nearby…but left without a word. Malcolm knew him as a man who would obey orders. He was sure to have questions later…but for now he obeyed without posing them.

Ensign Turner dithered, however…

"Sir…I…" He said, uncomfortably.

Malcolm turned to look at him then.

"It was a long time ago, sir." He said, more firmly now. "Before I even joined Starfleet…"

"I understand that, Ensign." Malcolm said, sympathy and regret evident in his voice. "I'm afraid this wasn't my decision. This is on direct orders from Starfleet Command. Now leave the room."

Russell left then, clearly hurt and confused.

Malcolm lowered his eyes until he was gone. It was not at all an order he was comfortable following.

"I won't have any punitive action taken toward Ensigns Russell or Turner." He announced, looking over his men again. "This is purely a precaution and my orders are clear. I trust all of my officers completely. Neither of them have had any form of contact with Terra Prime since joining Starfleet and swearing their oaths. Nor for quite some time before that. But Starfleet Intelligence feels it prudent to take…excessive precautions."

But on the other hand…he had faith in his superior officers at Command. Or at the very least, owed it to them to act as if he did…

"And as I'm sure you've realized already…if one crewmen acting on his own can risk the lives of four senior officers at once…" He said. "Then an agent placed aboard the Enterprise with a specific assignment and time to prepare could do much more. So perhaps excessive precaution is not so excessive."

So there. Duty fulfilled. Malcolm took a moment to gather his resolve, then withdrew a PADD from his side pocket, activating it.

"We have been working with Starfleet Intelligence on Earth. One troubling development has come to our attention already. Many family members of crewmen aboard the Enterprise…have been linked to Terra Prime."

He rushed to clarify. "Let me explain. Terra Prime has, as part of it's recruitment effort, developed a network of information outlets. Financed by Paxton himself in most cases. Pamphlets, booklets, posters and so on, of course. Also websites, forums, newsgroups and various things of that sort. And it is the nature of such outlets that visitors are identified as potential recruits simply by virtue of having viewed the material to a certain degree."

"For example, in many cases registration of some sort is required to participate in discussion, request information or even access information already available on a site. Which would lead one to being registered as a Terra Prime _member _within the organization…if only informally and among the lowest ranking."

"Considering the engagements the Enterprise has been involved in over the last four years, it surprises no one than family members back home might be tempted to…curiosity about the beliefs such organizations adhere to."

He took a deep breath. What he was about to say would either galvanize his security officers…or so demoralize them they may have even further difficulty with the assignment before them.

"However, that means many of them, in light of their association with a crew member, are now listed with Starfleet Intelligence, who have seized many of these outlets. Resulting in their now being listed as…questionable. Persons of interest. This includes some of _your _family members. As well as…"

Malcolm paused then. He hadn't meant to, but...

"As well as my own." He admitted, looking down at the PADD in his hand. "My sister is listed here…having visited two sites operated by Terra Prime a total of 44 times in the last six months. Registering, probably without realizing it, for regular notifications of meetings and activities in the area…and so listed as a 'member' on certain of their registries."

He waited a moment, meeting the eyes of his men. Doing his best to lend his assurance to them in the process. But to say they were disturbed by what he'd said would be putting it mildly.

"And this is only an example, so that you can understand the _real _impact Terra Prime has had." Malcolm said. "What little damage they managed to do with the verteron array…is hardly comparable. As I understand it, S.I. has been forced to mark as confidential all information they've obtained of this sort. But much of it was already leaked prior to that. Including suggested links to several high-ranking politicians on Earth. Something I expect we'll be hearing about for quite some time."

"Let me speak plainly, then." He said, standing at ease again. "Terra Prime could not have spread suspicion and dissent on Earth…or on this ship…more effectively if they'd tried. I'm forced to wonder if that wasn't their intent. Some of what I've seen certainly seems to suggest as much. This is what you will be dealing with. Probably over the next several weeks."

"The Enterprise is good ship." He asserted. "I couldn't hope to serve on any better. And I know you all feel the same. We are _not _going to allow suspicion and paranoia to undermine morale aboard this vessel. At the same time, we will be certain Terra Prime has no other sympathizers among her crew either. We are here to talk about how we are going to accomplish those ends."

* * *

Hoshi Sato stared at the PADD, one hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. _Her father…how could he…?_

"Hoshi." Malcolm said, speaking carefully. He hated seeing her so upset and certainly didn't want to contribute further. "Try to understand. This probably isn't what it looks like…"

"How _could _he?" She whispered. "How could…?"

She smacked the PADD down on the table, shaking her head in denial. "I can't believe it."

"Hoshi, listen." He said, more insistently now to get her attention. She looked up at him, still hurt. But angry now as well.

Seeing that, he sat down next to her, placing one hand on her arm. Bringing himself down to her level rather than forcing her to look up at him.

"Understand how this works." He said. "These people offer reasonable sounding arguments at first…probably created by someone who's good at that sort of thing…and then draw you into their madness, as far as you're willing to go. It's a process, a way of weeding out those whose…hatred isn't irrational enough to be useful."

"Someone like your father…" He said. "The most they could have hoped for was…an impulsive, uninformed donation. At best. If you look at the record you'll see he may have lingered a bit…but he visited the site itself only twice."

"He shouldn't have, Malcolm." She insisted, shaking her head. "He should have never gone to…"

"Indeed he _should _have." He argued. "I'm glad that he did."

She stared at him, horrified.

"Look here." He said, pointing at the PADD's display. "This is the front page of the site. What do you see? Nothing at all. A logo, a meaningless slogan. So he looked further…until he found _this _a few pages later. The last page he visited."

Malcolm tapped his way through the links on the offline copy of the site. "A meandering diatribe against the coalition conference. Ranting about…conspiracies, half-baked at that. Not his cup of tea, so he's off to something else. Returns an hour later…for what? Maybe showing it to someone else and having a good laugh. We can't know."

"And this was weeks ago, well before this latest incident. When Terra Prime wasn't taken seriously by most. He probably didn't even remember visiting the site a week later. Probably still doesn't."

She was staring at the PADD now, thinking it through.

"It's the same story all over, Hoshi." He said. "Starfleet Intelligence is following more leads than they know what to do with. Finding nothing at all, in most cases."

"Malcolm...do you really think…?" She asked, hesitantly. "I don't want to believe my father could…"

"Certainly not." He denied, sneering. "I've seen the man's daughter. Can't believe for a moment a man who'd sire a tidy woman like that would fall for this sort of nonsense."

Of course…he'd _meant _it light-heartedly. To set her at ease, nothing more. But at the look of surprise on her face…

Well, perhaps he'd overstepped a tad.

"What I mean is…" He said, taking to his feet and retrieving the PADD. "I imagine he's a reasonable chap. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Uh…yeah." She said. Then shook her head. "Yes, you're right. I just…I can't believe…"

"I'm not at all concerned." He insisted. "I only came to tell you myself so you wouldn't find out from someone else."

Hoshi was still thinking…about the Terra Prime business, he hoped…but she nodded after a moment.

"Thank you, Malcolm." She said, looking up at him sincerely.

Lacking anything to say to that…and suddenly concerned he might botch it up again anyway…he nodded.

Though he did smile. Just a little…

…and left. Through the hatch, down the corridor. Away.

_Bloody hell_, he thought. He'd really have to learn to steer clear of that woman. Really.

* * *

Hoshi Sato was a little amazed.

To go from complete horror, to tears, to fury…to biting her tongue to keep from laughing. All in less than a minute. Amazing.

She wished she had her old girlfriends around her just then. _Then _at least it would be proper to giggle the way she so wanted to right now. Straight posture, slight tilt of the head, fingertips to the lip…a good and proper giggle.

With a sigh she gathered the PADD's she'd been working on and left the room. She had to admit, it was flattering. Just a little, though. Malcolm was so easily spooked you couldn't really read much into all that…

She startled then, nearly colliding with a blue blur at the hatch...

"Oh! Commander Tucker!" …but he'd passed right on by.

When she darted out to catch up, she found he'd stopped to wait for her in the corridor beyond and…

_Whoa_, someone's irritated.

"Hoshi." He said. "What do you need?"

She guessed that he was in a hurry to get back to Sickbay, so she stepped up quickly to accompany him. Inviting herself along.

"How's the baby? She asked. "I heard Phlox said she'd be okay…"

"How'd you hear that?" He asked, surprised. "I just found out myself."

"So she is?" She asked. "Have you named her? Are we going to get to see her? I barely got a glimpse when you brought her on board..."

"If you want to tag along, Hoshi, go ahead." He said, frowning.

Neatly implying the 'shut up' without actually _saying _it.

"Are you okay, Trip?" She asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." He said. "Just…"

He sighed then. "Just not in a very good mood, Hoshi." He admitted.

"What happened?" She asked…struggling now to keep up. In his frustration he wasn't taking into account his legs were so freakishly long compared to hers.

_Ten to one it had something to do with T'Pol, though…_

"Well, apparently T'Pol and I are getting a divorce." He announced, with dripping sarcasm.

_Ha! Sato wins again._

She chuckled. "I didn't know you two were married."

"Yeah, join the club." He grumbled.

_Huh. So he was sort of serious…_

"Well, what happened?"

He finally looked over at her as they walked, even slowing down a bit to let her keep up…but gesturing so extravagantly as he told his tale that she had to sacrifice a step or two anyway. In self defense.

"We're finally taking a minute to sit down and talk about all this." He said, flinging one arm out wildly…apparently in T'Pol's direction, somewhere out there in the universe.

"So she flies off the handle about…I don't know what. Of course. It's not like you can have a _conversation _with her without…"

He stuttered to a halt then, apparently unable to articulate all the myriad negative responses T'Pol was prone to.

"_Then_…then she falls flat on her face in the hall." He claimed. "Because she's running away. _Again_. So of course that's all _my _fault…!"

"She fell down?" Hoshi exclaimed.

He nodded, grimacing. "Flat on her face. Even lost a shoe. Would have been the funniest thing I'd ever seen any _other _time."

"Well…she's okay, right?" Hoshi asked, not sure whether to laugh or be concerned.

"Okay?" Trips said, bitterly. "No, she's _not _okay. She's out of her mind! And if she thinks I'm letting her take Elizabeth away from me, she can think again!"

_Whoa, what? _

"Take _who_…?" _The baby? Had they named her Elizabeth? That'd make sense, sort of…_

"Doesn't matter." He said, suddenly stone faced…but still simmering. "It's not going to happen."

"Wait…Trip!" She said. "What do you mean, 'take her away'…?"

But they'd arrived at Sickbay. Far too quickly.

"I'm sorry, Hoshi." He said, sparing only a quick look of regret. "I've got to go."

He was through the hatch and gone…leaving Hoshi outside in the corridor, bewildered.

_What in the world was going on…?_

Malcolm. Trip was friends with Malcolm. He'd have to know _something._

She turned her attention down the corridor…

_Where had he gone anyway?_

* * *

Malcolm was on his way to the Mess Hall. A quick bite, not to mention an convenient place to…well, yes, hide…seemed spot on at the moment. A select few security officers were busy about the ship, notifying and preparing particular crewmen about the coming shake up. Officers chosen for their ability to identify with their fellow officers and…well, 'handle' people effectively, really.

He wasn't needed for any of that, after all. And quite honestly didn't feel especially qualified anyway.

Before he could reach the hatch, Lieutenant Foster came jogging around the bend up ahead. Spying the Tactical Officer, he made straight for him, PADD in hand.

Malcolm was a little surprised at his disappointment. It would seem he'd really been looking forward to sitting down and putting all this aside for a moment. Clearly he was overworked and needed a break but…usually he was more than ready to meet the ship's needs. Far too much of this was hitting home, in areas personal to him. The price one paid, he supposed, for allowing such personal attachments to form in the first place…

"Sir." Foster reported, a little out of breath. But he didn't say anything further, just nodding sideways at the Mess Hall.

Malcolm nodded. Looks like we'll have a sit after all.

Both men entered, Malcolm leading Foster…through the room and into the Captain's Mess, rather than taking some back table to hunker over.

Seeing his surprise, Malcolm explained as he shut the door behind them.

"With the Captain off the ship and the Commanders indisposed…it seems I've been left in command by default." He said. "But…let's not let that get _around, _Foster…."

Foster understood. "Yes, sir."

As it was, everyone assumed one of the top three were calling the shots. If they became aware the Tactical Officer were running the ship…likely all bets would be off and he'd be inundated with complaints and requests the crew wouldn't normally dare bump up the chain…and Lieutenant Reed really didn't have the spare time to establish a _command _status with the whole crew just now…

Malcolm nodded his appreciation, taking a seat across from the man. "What have you got?"

"Well, a couple of things, sir." He replied. "First, we have a current in-progress report from S.I. on Mars…"

"How did we get _that_?" Malcolm asked, reaching for the PADD.

"Seems it was forwarded to you by the agent there, sir." Foster said. "You might see why when you read down a page."

Malcolm looked the PADD over, skipping ahead to the second page…

"Uh…before you get there, sir…" Foster warned.

"Yes? What?" Malcolm asked.

"Well…you probably don't want to skip anything." He said.

Whatever it was seemed to have intrigued Lieutenant Foster, so Malcolm started at the beginning…

…

"Am I reading this right?" He asked. "A Vulcan Terra Prime agent? Combusting without cause after he'd been caught?"

Foster nodded…a little sideways, to indicate it confused the heck out of him, too. "While he was _unconscious_, no less."

Malcolm was scanning a side link then…"I'm looking over the coroner's report and not making much sense of it. I suppose I'll consult with Doctor Phlox…"

"Already have, sir." Foster noted. "Although you might want to talk to him yourself. Seems there's little more than speculation from either of them. Phlox supposes some form of molecular disruption…cascade effect, maybe…but that wouldn't account for the kind of heat generation that report describes, though. Or the fact the man was out cold when it started…of course, they didn't have much to work with…"

Malcolm was looking thoughtful, shaking his head. "Rather beside the point, Foster."

"Sir?" Foster asked.

"It's something we've never seen before." He posed. "_That _is what is significant here."

Foster caught on quickly. "Just like we've never seen an alien working with people like Paxton."

"Yes, exactly." Malcolm affirmed, still deep in thought.

Foster mulled that over…

"That would suggest…we're looking at something a lot bigger than Terra…"

"Foster, have you shown this to anyone else?" Malcolm interrupted.

He blinked. "Uh…no, sir. It's 'eyes only', sir…"

"Then I strongly recommend you forget you read it, Lieutenant." He said. "In fact, forget it even exists."

Foster was no rookie. He'd been in Security long enough to learn what he should be aware of…and what he should not. And technically, he shouldn't even have read the report anyway…

"Forget what, sir?" He said, evenly.

Malcolm nodded. Lieutenant Foster knew his business. There was little concern there. But they both knew he wouldn't forget the matter. If a sudden leak developed some time in the future…Malcolm would come looking for _him _first…

But on the other hand…

"Not that it isn't all over already…" He mused, referring to the PADD again. "Happened in a crowded room, after all. Some two hundred witnesses, nearly. Nevertheless, you likely don't want yourself linked to this report."

"Understood, sir." Foster said.

"…and…interesting…" He said, having read ahead a bit in the meantime. "It looks as if this has happened before. Reference to another incident. Not cited here, however."

Foster nodded. "I was going to run a request through channels…but I guess I'll leave that to you, sir."

Malcolm smirked. "I suppose."

Foster waited. Lieutenant Reed was just getting to the good parts…

"Bloody hell." He muttered. Which surprised Foster a bit. Reed wasn't one for course language usually.

"Paxton." He said, sparing him a glance.

Foster nodded, sighing his disappointment. "Yes, sir."

"Neatly done." Malcolm noted, bitterly. Which struck Foster as odd yet again. It had certainly removed what was likely their primary source of intelligence but he'd made it sound more…_willful _than Foster would otherwise have thought…

He noticed then that Malcolm had stopped reading and was simply staring at the PADD.

He must have found it.

"I hadn't thought of that…" Malcolm muttered. "I assumed…"

He looked across the table then, pain evident in his expression.

"How in the bloody hell am I going to tell Trip about that?" Malcolm wondered aloud.

Foster shifted uncomfortably.

"Is it necessary, sir?" He asked. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't suggest keeping it from him…from _either _of them…but…"

"No." Malcolm shook his head. "No, it'll get around eventually."

Malcolm sighed, thoroughly oppressed. This was the last thing either of them needed to hear now. And never mind the taint the baby suffered by association, despite having no say in the matter to begin with. The child had never asked to be born, after all...and certainly not in a manner...

"I think…" Malcolm said, his jaw clenched with anger. "I think Paxton died far too easily, Foster."


	10. Chapter 10

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

T'Pol breathed out…her breath a tunnel of awareness flowing out before her…her body evaporating into the ether...fingers, toes, arms and legs…all gone…torso fading away…

Only her mind…and her breath…flowing away…dispersing…

Gone.

She existed…a dull awareness…floating in a white, featureless expanse…

And Trip was there…burning bitterly on the periphery…

She willed him away…away…further…

Turning and flowing, away…until the glowing flare of his anger burned almost 'beyond'…out on the horizon…

The flickering paths of her mind…damaged from Trellium exposure…frustrated at their failure to _function_…

Growing quiet…silent…sleeping…

Until she released…and ceased to exist.

For a time…and a time…

And a time.

Until it was time to return.

A breath, cool on her throat…her awareness growing…flowing through her body…neck, torso, extremities…

Her eyes opened. She breathed deeply…releasing, pure and sound again.

And Trip was there, on the periphery of her mind. His anger diminished now, a seething ember waiting for fuel to ignite it again…

But feeling…_affection_, at the moment. Not for her. Appreciation. Spikes of joy…

Tired. Hungry as well…

And Elizabeth. Warm and…

T'Pol was almost startled.

The child was _there_. The bond, flowing freely now. No longer a simple mutual recognition…a _family _bond. Present, in place, complete.

And connecting elsewhere…_to Trip_.

It was the first time she had meditated since they had recovered the child.

Of course. She should have realized…_would _have realized if she'd been thinking clearly at the time…she had been open to the bond…_both _bonds…_of course _it would mature, solidify.

And Elizabeth was already reaching out, sensing her. Needing…_connection_.

She began to stir, to _go _there…but Trip was there then. Touching, connecting…

Had he sensed it somehow? And responded?

She waited…experiencing, witnessing…

Warmth. Joy. And…rapidity of movement…shaking? Was Trip _shaking _the baby? Elizabeth…was _enjoying _it…echoes of…sound…

Elizabeth fascinated with the rhythmic sounds she was making…

But the family bond. The _child _bond. It was there, already.

T'Pol suppressed the grief threatening to overwhelm her. Even after meditation, even _immediately _after, her emotions were waiting to assault her. Beating at the walls of her mind, slipping through the chinks and cracks that she herself had caused…

It was too late now. Too late.

She could go through with her plans, of course…but the suffering Elizabeth would endure…no priest would allow that, much less be party to it. And she could not…

_Would _not!

Better that she _die _than…!

T'Pol breathed deeply…releasing again. Calm and centered. Reasoned.

The bond could not be severed. She could not allow that. Options, then.

Separation, for one. But the stress it would cause Elizabeth, as well as the significantly higher probability of maladaptive development rendered that extremely sub-optimal.

A healthy bond, well tended. Partnership with her mate. Mutual affection and attendance to duty. Optimal but highly implausible.

A medium of the two, working together without intimacy and only minimal, necessary regard. Only so far as the child required for a moderately healthy development. Improbable and prohibitively difficult.

All options available were inadequate. But that at least was the superior of the three, however deficient it might be.

The logical course of action, then.

Her mate was unworthy, yes. Their bond, an abomination, true. But Elizabeth should not suffer for that. And she would not.

The effects of the expanse, her Trellium abuse, her indulgence in neuropressure and sexual behavior, his insufferable relentlessness…all conspiring together, producing…

Madness. Her irrational flight from Trip before…resulting in her humiliation in the corridor. A mere taste of what was to come, if she continued to indulge herself in weakness.

There is no offense where none is taken. And that had served as an example of _why _offense should not be taken. She could just as easily have assaulted _him _for what he'd implied. She'd been fortunate merely to degrade herself instead.

Elizabeth was innocent. She had a hand in no wrongdoing. Their aberrant bond had not brought her into existence, as Trip had claimed, through the hands of evil men. Elizabeth had no part in her parent's guilt.

And so it would not be logical for Elizabeth to suffer for her failure. Nor for his. That she would not allow.

* * *

T'Pol entered Sickbay, still somewhat centered. Her emotions relatively in check, her mind fairly clear. She stepped only far enough in to witness the two together. Not so far as to interfere just yet.

She was curious about what exactly it was she had been sensing.

Phlox was standing to one side, smiling widely, completely engrossed in the display her mate and child were putting on. Being Denobulan, he received as much pleasure from viewing their interaction as he would had he been directly involved. And it was an unusual sight indeed, in T'Pol's estimations.

Trip had the baby high on one shoulder, one hand to her back and the other…smacking her bottom repetitively. This caused Elizabeth to bounced up and down in a rhythmic fashion, to which she responding by uttering a singular moan…itself wobbling in and out of tone as the result of the bouncing motion. Interestingly, she was aiding in the motion with mild thrusts of her legs now and again, displaying a highly satisfactory development of early motor skills.

In the time it had taken T'Pol to leave her quarters and arrive here, Elizabeth had already abandoned her particular fascination with that phenomenon. Now, it would seem, she divided her attention between it, the fist in her mouth and watching Trip's face move up and down, discordant to her own movement. Currently that seemed to occupy all her attention but…

A curious look in her direction suggested further that Elizabeth had sensed her arrival as well, probably as soon as she had entered the room.

The gyrations faltered for a moment, as Trip followed Elizabeth's gaze and saw her there…but continued with only that slight pause. His attention was on her then, rather than Elizabeth. Lacking any of the affection he had displayed toward the child a moment before. To her, he simply nodded…before turning back to Elizabeth and smiling again.

As she stepped forward Phlox took note of her at last, having been absorbed by Elizabeth's behavior entirely up to that point.

"Ah, T'Pol!" He exulted, "You missed all the excitement! We were testing motor skills a moment ago. She did quite well. Grasping and pulling small objects to her mouth, transferring them from one hand to another. She performed better than expected, considering her environment until now."

"It is unfortunate that I missed it." She said. "Doctor, if you don't mind, I would like to discuss something with Commander Tucker."

"By all means." He smiled. And waited.

"Privately." She added.

"Oh, I see. Well…" He said, "I suppose I could…review the results of her last scan. Excuse me."

He departed then…but only to the far side of the room. Not quite interpreting 'privately' to a non-Denobulan degree.

T'Pol watched Trip continue to bouncing Elizabeth lightly, smiling and muttering unintelligibly. Ignoring her completely in the process, which she perceived was intentional. But she could sense he was not especially angry or passionate at the moment. So that was quite sufficient.

"We cannot sever our bond." She announced. "A child bond has formed…"

"Who's we?" Trip asked lightly, still not looking at her. "I don't remember being part of that decision."

"It is irrelevant." She said, dismissing the point. "A family bond has formed. Both between myself and Elizabeth, and between both of you."

Trip looked at her then, frowning. Doubting.

"I sensed it when I roused from meditation." She explained. "In hindsight, I should have expected it."

He considered her for a moment longer, expressing little more than doubt before turning back to Elizabeth again.

"Funny how those keeping popping up." He noted. "Especially _just _when we're about to get away from each other."

T'Pol breathed deeply, deflecting the pain. "Not really. If a bond is close to maturity, it can be provoked to rapid development and closure by a perceived threat to its completion."

Trip snorted. "You make it sound alive."

"There is a school of thought that suggests it is." She conceded, "Bonds often seem to display anthropomorphic qualities, at least."

"So, she's bonded to us, you're saying." He said, looking over at her again. "Stuck with us, like I'm stuck with you."

T'Pol swallowed uncomfortably, breathing deep again. "It is not helpful to be…hurtful now, Commander. We must discuss this reasonably. For Elizabeth's sake."

He considered her for a time. Then…

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll make you a deal. I won't be hurtful…or even get _emotional_…and you won't run out in the hall and fall all over yourself. Deal?"

"Agreed." She said.

"Good. Then I'll start." He said, surprising her. "I think you need to think twice about the 'custody' thing. I don't think you've thought that through."

Before she could reply, he hurried forward. "Not a threat. Not trying to start an argument." He insisted. "Just a friendly warning, that's all."

"I believe that…" She began.

"No. Let me finish." He said, more calmly than she would have expected. "I've actually thought about it while you were off…meditating or whatever. I don't have a problem with joint custody. And I don't think it would be good for her not to have both…"

He stopped, frowning. "Well, the point is…you try to take her from me, I'm prepared to fight dirty, T'Pol. Not to be mean. For her sake, like you just said. And if you'd thought this through you'd realize…"

"Commander, excuse me." She said. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"You don't?" He asked, confused.

"No." She said, simply.

Trip stared at her, then took a deep breath.

"So first you tell me you're running off to sever the bond." He said, tightly. "And that we're going to start fighting for custody. Now you tell me we _can't _sever the bond and custody isn't an issue all of sudden."

He was growling a little now. "You know, I'm trying not to get all emotional here, T'Pol, but that's a little frustrating."

"I understand and I apologize." She soothed, "But neither of those options are preferable now."

T'Pol suddenly realized she was feeling anxious. And why.

"May I hold Elizabeth?" She asked.

Politely. Calmly. Now would not be a good time for him to decide to withhold her child out of spite.

"Why?" He asked, suspiciously.

"She requires…a physical connection." She answered, "As she develops finer motor function and hand-eye coordination, she requires frequent physical and psychic contact. It is…difficult to explain."

Across the room, Phlox piped up suddenly. "I was going to mention that, actually." He said, still reviewing the scans. "Vulcan infants require physical contact as a part of their natural development, much like Human infants do. Not quite for the same reason and to a lesser degree, although T'Pol is correct that there seems to be an additional psychic component that balances that out nicely. In fact, I would guess in comparing the two…"

Trip was nodding already, handing Elizabeth over to her. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. You don't have to beat me over the head with it."

Elizabeth immediately grabbed for her face. Clumsily, not nearly connecting at the specific points of contact, T'Pol realized, and unable to spread her fingers that far anyway. But close enough apparently that that it was sufficient for her needs. With T'Pol's face in both hands, she stared into her eyes for a moment. Then released.

That was all that was necessary just then, though it would be a regularly occurring behavior. Once satisfied, that one small 'jolt' of contact enough to stimulate her neural pathways sufficiently, she busied herself slapping her cheeks repeatedly with both hands and babbling loudly.

Trip snorted. But he didn't make the hurtful remark she'd sensed had come to mind. And he didn't object when she transferred Elizabeth to her own shoulder to hold. T'Pol was tempted to ask for instruction on how to duplicate the bottom-swatting maneuver Elizabeth had enjoyed before…but that threatened an intimacy between them at the moment that was best avoided.

Trip just stared, considering something. And T'Pol suddenly found herself lamenting not being able to read him clearly. She had only the vaguest notion what he was thinking...and their bond didn't seem to have any insight either, oddly enough.

"So. We're all bonded then." He said. "Nice little Vulcan family. And we can't sever _our _bond and custody isn't an issue. Have I go that right?"

"Essentially." She acknowledged. "I think it would be…"

"Okay." He interrupted, sternly. "So you had your terms before. And that's out the window now. So here's mine."

"First, we're done." He said. "You and me. I don't care if we're bonded or not. I've had enough. You can blame me if you like, I don't care. Mostly my damned fault anyway."

He folded his arms across his chest then. And she was suddenly sure any objection would be pointless.

"We'll take care of Elizabeth. We'll make sure she has everything she needs. But we're done." He said.

"That's just for now, though. We'll have to talk about later. If we're keeping her and raising her, I think you know that's going to mean…well, we can't do that on the Enterprise. Soon as Command figures that out they're going to give us a choice. I don't like it but…I already know what I'm gonna choose. I'm willing to worry about that later, when it comes up, if you are. I've barely got that far ahead, myself."

She nodded. She'd already considered it and been forced to the same conclusion. Putting off discussion of just _how _they were to work together to raise Elizabeth, apart from the Enterprise…and _where_...that didn't seem at all prudent. But she suspected it would prove too difficult for Trip at the moment. So she would defer until he felt able to discuss the matter.

"But I want to be clear here." He said, arms folded, tone brooking no discussion of the matter. "We're done. Don't come around looking for…whatever. I'll slap you down, T'Pol."

She couldn't help twitching an eyebrow at that. An errant impulse that would have embarrassed her in any other situation. But she got the point.

Trip chuffed. "I don't mean…not _literally_…I mean…you _know _what I mean."

"I do." She said, quickly, "I agree."

He nodded. "Good, then."

T'Pol hesitated. She'd had several lines of rational argument she'd laid out on her walk here…but most of them were irrelevant now.

"Commander." She said. "I want to be clear as well. Because she is bonded to us, and we to one another, it will be important to keep…aggressive feelings toward one another to a minimum. That could have an extremely unhealthy effect on her social development and self discipline."

Trip was already nodding. "I figured as much. Okay. I'm not interested in fighting with you anymore, T'Pol. So that's fine."

"Also…our bond is an important factor in her development of itself." She said. "So we will have to maintain…a particular degree of balance for…"

"I don't even want to be friends with you, T'Pol." He said, coldly. "Not trying to be hurtful, just honest."

She steeled herself. He was being honest, that was all. Admirable, considering the situation. Her taking that to heart would not be helpful. Discipline was needed here.

"I understand and agree." She said. "That will not be necessary. Merely a lack of aggression or unnecessary strong negative emotion. A relationship similar to our first year on the Enterprise should be sufficient."

"Well, I can't promise I won't be bitter or resentful about all this, T'Pol." He said. "I'm only Human and I didn't ask to be _bonded _to anybody. But I'm not going to hurt Elizabeth with it. She didn't ask for this, either."

"She did not." T'Pol agreed. "Another factor comes to mind. Our bond will not react well to intrusion by any third party. It would not be healthy for Elizabeth to experience…"

Trip grasped the bridge of his nose with one hand suddenly, his temper flaring.

"T'Pol…I'm trying real hard not to get pissed off here…" He warned.

"We can discuss that another time…" She conceded.

"That would be great." He said, gritting his teeth.

She waited, stealthily projecting calm and peace through their bond in the hopes it would get through. It worked well enough with close family members at such times…so she assumed a similar mechanism existed in mate bonding…

Trip let out a deep breath, embracing calm…

"Okay." He said, opening his eyes again. His eyes clear and rational. Unaware she'd had anything to do with it…assuming she'd even been successful.

"I guess that's enough for today." He announced. "If it's alright we'll get to the rest of that later."

She nodded, patting Elizabeth lightly on the back. Soothing her through the mild distress of their…discussion.

"Well, you're here." He said. "If you don't mind I'll go get something to eat. Then I'll come back and we'll…take care of Elizabeth or…maybe talk about what we're going to do next."

"Agreed." She said. Suddenly eager for him to leave. The talk had gone surprisingly well. She was concerned if he stayed any longer something would go awry.

But he left then. Without yelling or becoming exceptionally emotional. And they had agreed on largely all points.

Still, it was strange the disappointment and grief she was forced to suppress.


	11. Chapter 11

"_**The House of Two Moons"**_

**I'Ramnua City, Romulus**

Taev Neral was at the urinal. As he had been for nearly an hour.

Not exactly an ideal plan but the best he could come up with on such short notice. He'd been given the order to seize Senator D'mek entirely out of nowhere. There had been no advanced warning, nothing at all hinting such an order would be given up to now. He'd been completely unprepared. How often is one told to take a _Senator _in hand?

But as D'mek hadn't yet garnered opposition enough from his peers to warrant a proper level of paranoia for a Senator…Taev was fairly confident he could pull it off. If he was quick.

And he _was _quick, after all.

The challenge would be in doing so after standing at a urinal for an hour, of course. Thankfully none of the patrons of the establishment had visited _twice _during that hour…to find him still standing there, still apparently relieving himself all that while…

Hearing someone approaching the door of the lavatory, Taev had the false 'bladder' leaking into the urinal again with a flick of the wrist. He would seem to anyone not actually bending their head over and checking directly to be…well, making use of the urinal.

As Senator D'mek entered, one bodyguard preceding him in to check the room and the other taking position at the door, Taev studiously ignored all three of them. He was a businessman making use of the facilities, that was all. One wealthy enough to be eating at this particular establishment in the first place. So, of course, a Senator did not impress him especially. He certainly wasn't going to acknowledge the man's presence in the _lavatory_…

Neither bodyguard gave him more than a cursory look then when they'd entered…one staying at the door and the other behind him now, actually confident enough to face _away_, guarding D'mek as the man chose which stall he would make use of.

And so neither reacted quickly enough when he dropped the fake bladder at his feet and turned, blade drawn. With a quick motion, grabbing the man's forehead from behind, he'd cut the throat of the guard watching over D'mek before he was aware he'd been attacked.

Turning immediately and stepping to the side, toward the one at the door, Taev could see already that the second guard was as quick as he…reaching into his overcoat with one hand…

Or nearly as quick. A slight adjustment sent the blade stabbing _there_, through and into his chest, just so...pinning the hand in place just short of the weapon he'd been reaching for…

A gargled attempt to yelp in surprise to his left, the sound of blood splattering…the guard before him, jerking and grunting as he pulled the blade back out of his hand…_and _out of his heart…

…both men dropping to the floor of the lavatory…

…and Senator D'mek, just beginning to glance behind him at the commotion. Not yet realizing his guards had been killed in the time it had taken him to pick a stall. Taev had him spun about already, one hand over his mouth, thrust back against the same stall door he hadn't even had time to reach for and open…

"Be silent." He hissed, staring directly in his eyes. Staring _hard_, warning…

D'mek was wide eyed, aware only that his guards seemed to have disappeared and someone had him pinned. Someone with a knife in their hand…

Taev waited, giving him time to realize he wasn't dead yet…to decide whether he would fight or submit…

D'mek stared back, his mouth covered, eyes wide with fear…but he didn't resist.

"I am going to remove my hand." Taev warned. "And you will remain silent."

And so he did...and when D'mek did not immediately scream for help, he nodded. Good.

Reaching into his own coat, he produced his ID, holding it up before the man's eyes.

"I am Major Taev, Tal Shiar." He said. "I will speak quickly. It will be up to you to keep up. I suggest you do so."

D'mek blinked in surprise, already confused.

"Men are coming to kill you." Taev said. "I do not care if they succeed or not. I require information. _Who _intends to kill you and why. If you cooperate, you will live and I will have the answers I need. If you do not, you will die and I will be forced to find another source. Understand?"

D'mek almost didn't respond quickly enough, Taev noted. And that was not good. There was a certain momentum required, a pace to be kept up…he considered slapping the man, to bring him to focus…

…but the Senator nodded then. "I understand. Yes." He said, shakily.

He nodded. "Good. Come with me. _Quickly_." Taev said. "We must get you to safety."

D'mek finally noticed where his men had gone. Both dead on the floor at his feet.

"One of them was to assassinate you tonight." Taev explained. "I do not know which one. There is no time, come!"

He turned and walked briskly through the lavatory door, leaving the Senator to stumble after him with no chance to considered doing otherwise. And not daring disobey an agent of the Tal Shiar without anyone to protect him.

* * *

Through the restaurant, past the reception area, the attendants paying them no mind as they passed, then down the steps to the private street outside. A vehicle waiting, parked discreetly near the alleyway… It was all a blur as D'mek hurried to keep up with the agent, whose deceptively casual pace threatened to leave him behind if he spared attention to anything else.

D'mek tried, though. Tried, as much as he was able, to put his terror aside and figure out _what was going on_…

Tal Shiar? Acting to protect a Senator against assassins? Since when did they care? And who_, _anyway? _Who _could want him dead? Granted, he'd finally produced some actual results with Terra Prime but…enough to stir someone against him already?

Before they could reach what D'mek assumed was the car they would be taking, another one slid audibly to a stop further down the street, at the intersection…doors swinging upward, men diving out…three of them…with weapons…

"Get in!" Taev yelled, shoving him toward the car, producing a disruptor from nowhere…already snapping a beam at the men down the street, striking one of them squarely…

D'mek dove into the car, huddling in terror as a disruptor beam flashed through the air where he'd been standing _only a second before_…three more diffusing on the window behind him, mere inches away, melting through…rapidly, one right after another…

He was almost gibbering in terror by the time the Tal Shiar agent dove in across from him, staying low himself…too low to even see outside the vehicle yet still somehow sending it rushing forward, spinning around and _away _in less than a heartbeat…

* * *

D'mek hadn't raised his eyes or his head within range of being shot at just yet, staying as low as he could manage. Taev was still glancing behind them, driving fast…but maybe he could get a glimpse…

"Stay down, you fool!' Taev snapped, putting an end to his curiosity.

"Are they chasing us?" D'mek asked, a humiliating squeak evident in his voice.

"Yes!" Taev answered. "And they require nothing more than a single shot at your fat head! So stay _down_!"

D'mek burrowed further into the seat. But the agent was frustrated, he could tell. He hadn't expected this, which only frightened D'mek all the more.

"We can't get you to the safe house." Taev announced, suddenly. "It would seem I have been compromised. We must go elsewhere…"

D'mek's heart skipped a beat. A Tal Shiar agent_…compromised? _How? By _who_…?

"M...my compound." He stuttered. "I have guards…"

Taev snorted. "Like those in the lavatory?" He sneered, "Yes, they were very effective."

D'mek thought furiously…trying to come up with something…some place he could _hide_…

"Who is your partner?" Taev asked, suddenly.

He blinked. What?

"Wha…? I…" D'mek stuttered.

"Your partner in this Terra Prime business!" Taev clarified. "We know that you're not acting alone. Who is it? It would be in their interests to protect you now! That is why these men were sent!"

"I…I don't…" He babbled.

_D'sher? _D'sher would protect him…_perhaps_…but he would _furious_…

"Quickly! There is no time!" Taev snapped. "These men must have called for reinforcements by now! Is it Senator D'Tella or Ushek?"

_What? Who? _D'Tella? Ushek? They had nothing to do with…!

Taev slapped him suddenly on the side of the head. A sharp blow that startled him out of his confusion a bit.

"Which is it? Answer!" Taev demanded. "It is one of the two. _Which_?"

"Neither!" D'mek exclaimed. "It is D'sher! Those two do not care about…"

"Then we must get you to D'sher." Taev said, firmly. "Stay down!"

The vehicle accelerated further…so fast! Too fast to be safe…but their pursuers surely sought his life…

D'mek dug his fingers in the seat, terrified. D'sher would protect him. He must! And if not…perhaps the Tal Shiar agent would _convince _him to…

* * *

**D'Sher Compound**

**I'Ramnua City, Romulus**

The car rolled up to the rear gate, to be met by the guards there. Nothing was said that D'mek could overhear from where he lay, but the vehicle barely paused before passing through. The Tal Shiar agent hadn't spoken and the vehicles hadn't even been inspected. Not to mention the guards didn't seem to find a senator huddled face down in the passenger seat worth questioning.

Had he only shown his identification? Had the guards responded to _that _so quickly? What was going on?

Raising his head to look around, he was struck on the head yet again by Taev.

"Down." The man said, simply.

D'mek was not as terrified as he had been before and was beginning, in fact, to get very annoyed with his treatment. The men pursuing them must have been left behind by now. And they were on D'sher's grounds. Safe now, surely.

But at Taev's cold look, he stayed down anyway. Gritting his teeth perhaps but offering no other argument. He would deal with this man's impudence later, once D'sher made his appearance. Once his safety was assured.

When they reached the servant's garage Taev drove straight through, coming to a stop deep inside and exiting the vehicle. Though it made him all the more resentful, D'mek stayed face down on the seat until told otherwise.

The door opened. "Out." Taev ordered.

Frowning, D'mek stumbled out, ready to begin bringing this man to task…

…four of D'sher's guards were waiting there. Once of them was Kh'ev D'nhaih.

Who looked very displeased to see him.

D'mek had had enough of all this. Being shot at, tossed into cars, slapped about the head…and now some D'kaleh daring to show him less than the welcome he deserved…

He snarled at Kh'ev. "Don't glare at _me_, D'nhaih. This was not _my _idea…"

"Take him." Kh'ev ordered.

The men grabbed for him.

Surprised, D'mek resisted at first. "What…? Let go of me…_ahh!"_

One of the men had twisted his arm sadistically, sending a jolt of agony through his shoulder…D'mek could barely _breathe _suddenly…

Kh'ev was staring coldly down at him…and the Tal Shiar agent…_smirking at him_…

D'mek was afraid again then…beginning to understand something had gone very wrong somewhere…

* * *

Senator D'sher waited patiently as his D'kaleh went over the report. A report he would never have otherwise been allowed to see. One supposedly intercepted from D'mek's agents hours ago but in truth handed to him personally days before.

D'sher folded his hands behind him, turning to stare respectfully out the window. He had seen the shock on Kh'ev's face. And it would turn to anger soon…

"I can't imagine how you must feel, Kh'ev." He said, expressing sympathy. "I suppose I understand why she was chosen. A non-human, serving on Starfleet's most favored vessel…serving far longer in such a capacity than any other Vulcan before her…precisely the symbol these Humans would wish to make an example of."

D'sher sighed in disgust, shaking his head. "But _this_…D'mek, _that fool! _He should have _known _better. It lacks all respect! There are _rules…_observances that we all acknowledge…ones he obviously does not comprehend. You are an honorable man and have served the Empire well for many decades…completely unacceptable!"

He turned to consider Kh'ev then. He was still staring at the report, the expected anger burning in his eyes…his jaw clenched…

"You have asked before that I allow you to kill that man." D'sher lamented. "But it never served my purposes to do so. I must admit…I wish I had now."

He sighed in disgust again, seeming to find the whole thing difficult to accept himself…and watching the cold fury growing in Kh'ev in the meantime…

Kh'ev stirred then. "She believes that I am dead." He whispered. "And her mother is gone, cut off from her people. Now she has a…child…an unnatural one...with a _Human__…"_

"I know." D'sher said, sympathetically. "It is enough that she has joined Starfleet. They will be our enemies soon. That at least would be honorable in the end…but to suffer _this_…"

He shook his head again, unable to verbalize his disgust at the entire thing.

"Senator…" Kh'ev began, swallowing. His voice trembling slightly, trying to speak clearly through his ire. "I must ask…"

"I know what you would ask, Kh'ev." D'sher said, shaking his head. "And I believe many would agree, were he made an example of. But that should not suggest there will be no risk, were it known…"

"None would know." Kh'ev seethed, almost _begging_.

D'shar considered for a long moment. Considered carefully, making the man wait…

Then nodded.

"I cannot deny you this any longer, Kh'ev. It grieved me to do so before but this simply cannot be endured. If you can assure me it will in no way lead back to _me_…"

"It will not." He insisted.

That was good enough for Senator D'shar. Kh'ev was highly skilled and experienced, after all. He enjoyed a very solid, well deserved reputation. And that based only on the handful of deaths that were _suspected _to be attributable to him. Only D'shar knew just how many weren't linked to him in at all.

D'mek's end would undoubtedly be brutal and violent, with no clue who was responsible. Suspicions, of course, but that would be all. Which would itself serve his purposes, really. Let the Senate tremble a bit at _him _for a change.

D'shar nodded then. "Very well. I will grant you this. Take your vengeance, Kh'ev."

He turned to face him more directly then.

"And further." He promised. "I will assure you this Terra Prime affair will be taken well in hand. With D'mek out of the way, I will have no difficulty seizing control of it. It is a perfect vehicle for disrupting the coalition, and indeed, all of Human space. I will not allow another foolish Senator to…_toy _with it and _waste _it so egregiously. And we will deal with the Humans that dishonored your daughter before we are done as well."

Kh'ev remained silent, staring down at the report, clearly already making plans for his revenge against D'mek.

"But I must say it again, Kh'ev." D'sher warned. "It cannot be traced back to me. If you are discovered, I will deny any knowledge. And you _must not _be discovered. I do not fear the Senate nor the Praetor in this, I'm sure few will disagree with this course. But with D'Rianov tempted against us as he is, he may easily decide to use this to his advantage…"

"Senator, excuse my interruption." Kh'ev said, suddenly roused from his scheming. "I do not think D'Rianov is a concern. In fact, it would seem he has…reconsidered his response to you. He has sent you a gift, of a sort. That is what I came to report to you."

"What do you mean?" D'sher asked, surprised. "He killed S'tel. Stuck his head on his gate. I think his intentions are clear…"

Kh'ev shrugged weakly. "I…cannot say for certain but…my men report that he has since looked into the incident in Mhiessan of last year. Perhaps he simply finds your position is stronger than he assumed."

D'sher snorted. "I can't imagine D'Rianov afraid of _me_. We were very fortunate in Mhiessan. In fact, that is why I did not mind threatening _him_. I didn't think he would overreact so much. And what gift? What do you mean?"

Kh'ev shook his head, trying to clear it a bit. "There is a…it is in the chamber below. My men have already delivered it there."

_Ahhh! _D'sher smiled. "I see. A _gift_." He chuckled. "Is she Romulan? Or something more…exotic?"

Kh'ev smiled slightly, obviously despite himself. "Something…significantly more unusual than that, Senator."

"_Vulcan?" _D'sher guessed. "Now _that _would be quite expensive…"

Kh'ev shrugged, still somewhat distracted by his own concerns. "I think I shouldn't ruin the surprise, Senator." He deferred.

"Come." D'sher ordered, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "This will take your mind off things for a time. I think that would be good for you."

"Senator, with all respect…" Kh'ev denied, suddenly looking stricken.

"I won't hear it." D'sher insisted. "You can plan your vengeance with a clear mind later. Come and enjoy this with me."

Kh'ev knew D'sher to be an exceptionally perverse man. One who didn't seem to grasp that others did not share his tastes. He knew once the man was done with the 'gift' he thought awaited him below, with Kh'ev forced to watch all the while, her end would typically be…horrific.

He'd witnessed it before. And he'd honestly have killed, gladly, a dozen times over, to avoid doing so again. But this time was quite different.

Kh'ev nodded instead. "I would be most happy to, Senator. And thank you."

* * *

Senator D'sher stepped into the chamber. She was there waiting for him alright, laid out upon the couch to the side. Veiled enticingly beneath a crimson sheet, itself adorned with symbols of good will and polite affection.

She was either resigned to her fate or drugged heavily, he noticed. She wasn't struggling at all. While he appreciated D'Rianov's presentation, of course…that _was _a little disappointing.

The chamber was sealed, water-tight and lacking elbow room for more than two at a time. Typically himself and whatever unfortunate soul he sought to amuse himself with. Water-tight so that, when he was done with them, he would sit and enjoy the screaming and begging through the one clear wall on the opposite side of the chamber. While the room slowly flooded.

It was, really, even more satisfying than…

…wait…_that _was a strange odor…

Having stepped forward eagerly to unveil his gift, already planning how best to proceed if she _were _Vulcan…D'sher was struck at the odd scent of copper in the air…as if…

He yanked back the sheet, then. His gift had better _not _have been injured before he'd even arrived…

Senator D'mek was staring back at him.

Naked, bound, unmoving. Staring because…his throat had been cut…

D'sher gawked for a moment…then spun angrily about to demand an explanation…

Finding Kh'ev shutting the door between them. Sealing it with a sharp *_clunk_*.

Kh'ev moved casually around to the clear wall, ignoring the faint sound of D'sher already banging on the door, demanding his release. He hadn't really paid attention any of the other times he'd been here before, so he had to search a moment for the button that activated the speaker. And the other button next to it as well.

He depressed the first of the two.

"…_doing? Let me out of here!"_

Kh'ev smirked. The man hadn't quite caught on. Hadn't even yet conceived that he was about to die.

He looked over his shoulder behind him. There was the very comfortable looking chair there, of course. But he imagined D'sher had pleasured himself there many times in the past. So he'd stand while he enjoyed the show instead.

And really, now that he considered it, he could perhaps understand why D'sher enjoyed this so much. He was certainly very pleased himself at the moment. And the fun hadn't even started yet.

D'sher must truly hate women though, he thought, to take this sort of pleasure in tormenting them. Such a general abiding hatred as that Kh'ev couldn't really relate to but…yes, he supposed he could understand the attraction now, after a fashion. He was surprised it hadn't occurred to him before. Perhaps he simply hadn't hated enough men as much as he hated D'sher at the moment, so had lacked any means of comparison until now.

"_Kh'ev! I will have you burned alive for this! Open this door!"_

"You have granted my request, Senator." Kh'ev argued, through the speaker. "To have my vengeance on the one responsible for T'les' death. And for what has been done to my daughter. Don't reverse yourself now. Consider how embarrassing that would be."

"_What are you talking about? Are you insane? Let me out of here!"_

"The women you've murdered in this place, how long do they usually last?" Kh'ev asked, musing aloud. "Before they beg you to spare them, I mean. I will grant you, they are usually quite weak by then so I suppose that might account for _some _of their delay..."

D'sher stared through the glass, still failing to make sense of Kh'ev's apparent fit of madness.

"Do you think that you will last longer?" Kh'ev asked. "I've seen some last the entire hour…until the water was nearly to the ceiling and they were forced to stand on their toes on the couch to snatch a breath or two. Only _then _begging for their lives. And often only because you promised mercy if they did."

"_Kh'ev! Stop babbling and open the door! I swear to you…!"_

Kh'ev snorted. "I won't promise that, of course. So perhaps we won't be able to make an accurate comparison after all. But, still…let us see what we can see…"

He pressed the second button, sending water spraying down into the chamber from the ceiling above.

Only _then _did D'sher begin to catch on.

Kh'ev had to laugh when he began begging almost right away. The water had hardly begun to puddle on the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**UCPD Headquarters**

**Mars**

Sally Granger watched the interrogation unfold through the one-way glass wall. Paxton was well aware that it was there, that there was likely _someone _watching. That was the point of it.

The recorder built into the table was active, the glowing red light on the _opposite _side of the table making that obvious to him. Environmental controls on the wall were the only break in the plain white of the cramped room. Again, well out of Paxton's reach, to capitalize on the sense of isolation and dependence.

A glass of water sitting to the side of the observing detective, available at any time. He need only ask for it.

Standard interrogation all around. Paxton seated in a metal chair, designed to be just exactly too small and hard for comfort. The one detective watching quietly, _staring _at him across the table. The other, the interrogator, seated comfortably facing him, on _his _side of the barrier.

They hadn't covered anything of use to Granger yet. And probably wouldn't save by accident. The detectives here just wanted a confession, to crimes she was already well aware of. Nothing new here.

"…and we know that you were aware of what was going on in the lab." The interrogator suggested. Calm, soothing tones. Non-threatening. He understood Paxton, after all. Identified with him.

Paxton hadn't much to say up to that point. He stared at the walls and did his best to ignore the two men. An occasional long-suffering sigh, perhaps. Not much else.

"We've reviewed the security footage from the facility." The interrogator continued. "We have you giving the order for Doctor Mercer to be killed. Several conversations with him concerning the cloning process and the clone itself. Visits to the lab, where you spoke with the victim many times."

Paxton said nothing.

The interrogator sighed. A long-suffering sigh of his own now.

"Try to understand the situation, Mr. Paxton." He said. "We know why you did what did. We get that. _I_ get it. We all see what's going on. I've wished myself there was something I could do about it all sometimes. And it's a rare man with the conviction to stand up and do what he knows must be done. To make the hard choices."

The interrogator snorted then. "Heck, I'd shake your hand if I could get away it. But…there are some things here that…well, they need to be resolved. _Someone _must be responsible. Mercer, Khouri, the illegal cloning…and Miss Evans. Now, maybe you weren't quite as in control of events as everyone assumes. Maybe the whole thing…just spun out of control…"

Jenna Evans, Granger thought. If there had been a point where this detective might really have related to Paxton as much as he let on…then that was certainly the killing point. Terra Prime apparently hadn't bothered with an artificial womb…or maybe Paxton had tapped the last of his resources by then and just couldn't afford it…they'd required a surrogate at some point. So they'd simply snatched one from the mines on Luna.

A twenty year old girl, working in some dusty, dingy office on the moon. Fresh off the boat, practically, having been there only a week. Ironically, because she hadn't qualified for sponsorship in the advanced political science classes she'd applied for. So she'd needed some measure of productive service to meet her obligation.

Kidnapped, imprisoned, impregnated…and tossed out an airlock when she was no longer useful. Probably what had set Khouri on the road to betraying Terra Prime. After witnessing that…_and _being forced to care for the baby…

Sally hadn't interfered yet, for that reason. These officers didn't just want that confession…they _needed _it. And they'd proceeded so far in a thoroughly professional manner, despite pretty obviously wanting nothing more than to toss Paxton out an airlock themselves.

So she could wait a while.

"…why we need answers, Mr. Paxton." The interrogator continued. Still calm. Still soothing. Lots of understanding and respect. "Some amount of resolution here. There are families on Earth who can't understand the sacrifices that have been made…"

"I'm not here to answer your questions, detective." Paxton asserted, suddenly. "I'm here because Starfleet and your own superiors require a scapegoat. Something to distract the people _away _from their cowardice. Away from how they've _sold _the people they were _sworn _to protect to alien influences…sold them into _slavery_."

"And you're comfortable with that?" The interrogator responded. "Willing to sacrifice yourself for _them_?"

Paxton smiled slightly, almost smirking. "It was inevitable. The moment the people _demand _justice from _corrupt _authorities they become the _enemy_. Not the aliens among us, subverting us. Not foreign powers, hobbling us with demands that benefit only _them_. People like _you_, detective, who want nothing more than to live in peace. To follow our inherent desire, our _destiny_, to be free."

Paxton was making a speech. After reviewing the security footage herself, Sally wondered that he didn't seem capable of anything else. Quite a few keywords in there too, talking points straight from the Terra Prime manifesto.

That'd be the key to opening him up, then. He wasn't really _thinking _right now, just speaking…

"And that requires sacrifice." The detective observed. "Including your own. I understand that."

"I'm prepared to do what must be done." Paxton droned. Emotionless. Almost staring into space when he'd said it.

A pretty telling sense of detachment there, Sally noted. Paxton had fallen prey to his own speeches somewhere along the line…or _something_…

"Are you prepared to tell us about Evans?" The interrogator asked. "That can't have been an easy decision to make…"

"A necessary sacrifice." Paxton observed. "Not the first nor the last. The citizen soldiers of Terra Prime stand ready to do what must be done. Humanity will prevail _precisely _because we are _strong _enough to _do _that. To reclaim our heritage and return mankind to her rightful place."

Sally frowned at that. This was beginning to get a bit eerie. Paxton hadn't just listened to too many of his own speeches…he'd lost himself in them. Even to the point that he repeated himself a little…and his answer that time hadn't even been very relevant…

"Who chose Evans?" The interrogator asked suddenly, changing track. "Was it one of your men? Did someone else come up with that idea?"

Paxton's eyes shifted subtle to the left, remembering.

But he didn't answer.

The detective shrugged then, helpless. "There isn't much I can do if you don't cooperate, Mr. Paxton. We already know everything we need to know. You're not giving anything up by filling in the blanks here. There isn't anything that's happened that can't be laid right at your feet. And we both know there are people outside this room who want nothing more."

He leaned forward slightly, almost conspiratorially.

"But you can offer some understanding to those that have suffered, not knowing why it was necessary. And perhaps help us to understand all _you've _suffered yourself. None of this could have easy for you."

"I have nothing else to say." Paxton said.

His eyes shifting to the _right _then…thinking, projecting…his face going slack for a moment…

Which was odd.

Sally squinted. His posture was open, not closed. Hands in his lap, casually. Feet apart, slightly slumped posture…resigned…that slack expression gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Back to staring at the walls again…ignoring the detectives…waiting patiently…

Sally turned to the man next to her. Captain Butler.

"Are they linked in there?" She asked.

Butler nodded. "Probably not a good idea to interrupt them…"

She was making a 'gimme' gesture already. Staring firmly, no time to argue.

The Captain sighed, reaching into his own ear to offer her his comm.

Sally frowned. She was going to catch something if she kept having ear sex with everybody like that. But she jammed the comm into place anyway and tapped it open.

"Comm check." She said, quietly. "Interrogator, give your left cheek a scratch."

Inside the room the lead detective paused for a moment, then scratched his cheek casually. Sally nodded to herself.

"Come around to that again." She said. "Who chose Evans?"

"You need a break." The detective asked then, responding quickly. "We've been at this awhile, I understand that. If you could tell us who picked Evans, that might give us something else to follow up on. Johnson and I could see to that, let you rest in your cell for a while. You'd be a lot more comfortable there than in _here_, anyway."

Paxton's stared at the wall. No sign he'd even heard the question…

"Nothing." Sally noted. "Whose idea was it then."

"Maybe just…who came up with the idea of using a surrogate?" The interrogator suggested. "That can't have been _your _idea. I know you're willing to do what has to be done…but we know someone _else _recommend that to you."

Head down now…suddenly still, eyes widened slightly…submissive…very subtle, though…

That didn't make any sense. There might as well have been someone standing over Paxton's shoulder, threatening him…or…

…not threatening…someone _dominant_…

"Crap." She said, pulling the earpiece out again and handing it back to Captain Butler.

"Get them out of there." She said, frowning.

Butler startled. "What? What are you…"

"I'm going in." She said. "Don't argue, just make it happen."

She was already turning, shucking her civilian jacket, unbuttoning her blouse.

"I need a uniform. Anything, doesn't matter." She snapped.

* * *

Sally entered the room, PADD in one hand, wearing the Utopia PD uniform the desk sergeant had given up. Featureless now, no rank marking, no identification.

She ignored Paxton altogether. He was furniture. Meaningless. He wasn't there.

She walked comfortably. This was _her _room. Paxton was nothing.

Proceeding straight to the recorder, she clicked it 'off', killing the glowing red light. Taking the glass of water then from where it rested nearby, she dropped it through the nearly hidden waste receptacle in the wall…cleaning up her room. Establishing her dominance over the environment and removing Paxton from the equation entirely.

Then she moved to his side of the table, still seemingly unaware of him.

Taking the interrogator's vacant chair then, the comfortable one, she dragged it closer to the table. And sat, positioning the PADD just so at her side where it would be handy.

She folded her hands neatly in her lap and stared at Paxton then. And stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

Waiting.

Paxton frowned eventually. "I have nothing else to say."

"Apparently you do." She noted. "Whose idea was it to use a surrogate?"

He turned away, to the right. Thinking. _Listening_.

Then began staring at the walls again, ignoring her.

"You're responsible for the deaths of forty-seven Humans. At least that we're aware of." She said, "I counted."

She had his attention again, so she turned to the PADD. "Khouri, Evans, Mercer...forty-three miners who explosively decompressed when you left Luna without warning…"

She waited, staring at him again.

"That's forty-six." He said, at last. He was trying _not _to fidget though, she noted.

"I'm counting the clone." She admitted. "Though she hasn't died _yet_…"

"That _child _is not _Human_." Paxton argued, offended.

Sally smiled. "Of course she is. Who ordered the use of a surrogate?"

He wanted to respond, to argue the first point…but his attention was pulled away again by the second. As she expected.

She waited…

"Who are you listening to?" She asked, quietly. Forcing his attention back to her, to recall what she'd asked while he was distracted.

He started to say something…but stopped, diverting his eyes to a point above her left shoulder...

"What's the limit?" She asked, curiously. Cocking her head to the side slightly, peering at him.

He looked back at her, confused.

She shrugged, as if the question were obvious. "The number of Humans you're willing to murder so that 'humanity prevails.' There must be a limit."

She smiled then. "It's only logical. You'd run out eventually."

His stare grew intent, the muscles in his jaw flexing. A bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow, interestingly enough.

"Who ordered the surrogate?" She asked, switching back.

He turned away again, frustrated. Fidgeting now.

She waited until he stopped moving. Sitting rigidly…quiet…

"Who ordered the surrogate, John?" She whispered.

Paxton exploded.

"Humanity must prevail!" He exclaimed…

…and seemed confused at his own outburst. Blinking, looking for something to the right…

"Who ordered the surrogate?" She asked again, rising from the chair. Leaning on the table, staring at him, expecting an answer…

A defensive posture now…his arms folded, legs closed, leaning back…he was still seeking desperately to the right, unaware that he was doing so…

"John, now is not the time to doubt ourselves." She advised. Colonel Green's own words…just a hint...

His attention _jerked _back to her.

_Gotcha. _

_That's the key. That's who you're listening to…_

"Who ordered the surrogate?" She repeated.

Paxton was growing agitated, a subtle shifting in his seat, sweating slightly…trying to look away…eyes flickering to the right…

Sally advanced carefully, moving closer. Approaching the boundary of his personal space, forcing his awareness on her.

"For the sake of our children, and our children's children…who ordered the surrogate?" She asked.

Paxton rubbed his forehead…partly wiping the sweat from his brow but primarily as an excuse to avert his eyes…

...but focused on her still, despite himself…_trying _to escape but…

"Now is not the time for timidity and second guessing, John." She advised.

Paxton twitched. One hand fully over his eyes now...head bowed, hiding…sweating…

She stepped closer, towering over him. Calm, soothing…

"Who ordered the surrogate?" She asked. "Who, John? Who ordered it? Tell me."

He was shivering a little. Face hidden, slumped beneath some unseen burden…convulsing as _something _struck him…

"Who, John?" She pressed, speaking rapidly. "We must act decisively. The scars of mutation and decay, future generations, horrible disease. Who ordered the surrogate?"

…and Paxton began to choke.

Literally.

Sally waited…letting him work through it…

But it didn't stop. He was turning blue…

He wasn't reacting to _emotional _distress, she suddenly realized…

With a curse she grabbed his shoulder, shoving him back into the chair…

…blood spilled from his mouth…

He was choking on his _tongue_…he'd bitten it off…

She grabbed for his jaw quickly, to pry it open…but he was fighting her…weak already…

"Get in here, dammit!" She yelled. The sound of the men in the next room, rushing around and down the hall outside…

She saw it then. Just a glimpse as she tried desperately to pry his mouth open…something small, plastic, broken…imbedded _inside _his tongue…something that had made it through the scans in booking…

And something yellow, mixed with the blood and saliva in his mouth…

The detectives burst into the room finally…Butler even leaping _over _the table to grab him, hold him…

Too late, she knew.

Paxton had gone limp. His eyes rolled back in his head.

* * *

"Well, that effectively removes our best source of intel here, Granger." Murphy groused. "You're not leaving us a lot to work with."

Sally frowned back at him, through the comm screen. "We've still got plenty. With Paxton's assets seized we've practically got Terra Prime's entire organizational chart laid out for us. There are a dozen people from the facility in custody right here, networks on Luna that were directly involved…"

"Yeah." Murphy interrupted. "Would have been nice to have _Paxton_, though, Sally. It's getting a little tiresome how every major source of intel _dies _in a dramatic fashion whenever you come around."

That was a diversion. Manipulation. He was trying to undermine her, humble her, force her to concede to his authority. Which suggested he had something up his sleeve. Something he was waiting to drop on her when she was good and compliant….

"Jimmy…" She said, shaking her head. "Don't do that. I get it. You're in charge. You don't have to pull that with me…"

"The hell I don't." He said. "Seems I've got to get your head unstuck every time we talk."

"Well, not this time." She insisted. "I'm focused. This is bigger than Terra Prime, Jimmy. And all those leads that keep dropping dead are the ones leading _there_. We have to find a way to _that_."

Murphy was silent for a minute.

"Why did I send you to Mars, Sally?" He asked.

Dumb question. He knew perfectly well. To get her off the Sterok case. Because the local PD was…no...

No, that's what _she _knew. _He _knew something else.

He hadn't known S'ton would be waiting here on Mars, waiting to burn to ash the same way Sterok had. Or even that the whole Terra Prime mess would blow up while she was in transit. He'd sent her here to get her out of the way…because he hadn't wanted her investigating _Sterok _any further. He'd _never _wanted her involved in that, in fact…

"What don't I know here, Jimmy?" She asked.

"You know everything you need to." He admitted. "And a lot more than you're supposed to already."

"Crap." She snapped. "I've got level nine clearance here…"

"Granted so you could get on top of Terra Prime." He pointed out. "And because you were my only asset out there."

"Right. And this is leading somewhere you don't want me to go." She argued. "Which means you already _know _where this is going."

Murphy paused, then leaned in toward the screen.

"Sally. If you've never listened to me before, you listen now." He warned, "Clear your head. This is not the time for you run ahead and jump into things. There are consequences here that you need to take seriously. So you better develop a sudden sharpness about you."

Sally had started to argue…but she got the message. And since he was taking the time to warn her, that meant there was some hope he still had her best interests at heart. Else he wouldn't have bothered.

She nodded lightly. "I'm listening, Jimmy." She said, "I told you I was focused and I am. I'm not taking this personally."

Of course, she was. She knew that. Murphy didn't need to, though.

"Then you've got a choice." He said. "You can disappear down a hole there's no bottom to…or you come in. All the way in. There's no gray area here, Granger. No middle course. You commit to this or you disappear. All the way gone, you get me?"

Sally considered. She never heard him talk like that before. And to admit it, even. She'd suspected he was plugged into a lot more than he'd let on all these years…far too much intel had crossed from his desk to hers that had come out of nowhere…extremely _precise _intel, that could have only been gathered by some _other_ agency, one that wasn't so constrained by...

And she suddenly realized just where she was standing.

She stepped into this blindly after all. Ran ahead, like usual, digging deeper than she should have…until the bottom had fallen out, without her even being aware…

"Let me make myself clear, since you seem to be having trouble keeping up." He advised. "You're dead, Granger. You died three days ago. Up to you to decide where you spend your afterlife…but that life you had before isn't yours anymore. It's over. One way or the other…you have to decide now. Understood?"

Damn him. He'd made his decision when he'd approved her clearance and thrown her at Mars admin...maybe even before that. Maybe _long _before that.

"What the hell choice do I have here, Murphy?" She asked, bitterly.

Yeah, no 'Jimmy' for you anymore, butt munch.

Not that he would care, she knew. Not that he'd _ever _cared, probably.

"Lots of choices here, Granger." He answered. "You can run around blind like you have been up to now. And get yourself tossed down a hole. Or throw intel to the wind for everyone around you to grab a piece of. And get yourself tossed down a hole. Or make up your own mind what needs to be investigated. And get yourself tossed down a hole. You getting the picture yet?"

"Yeah, I get it." She said.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for, Granger." Murphy said.

Sally worked her jaw a bit at that…but let it go.

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." She said.

"Good." He said, "You're beginning to see just what we're up against out there in the universe, Sally. And I think you're beginning to realize we can't be shackled if we're even going to secure our survival. We need agents like you. Willing to do what must be done. So it's time for you to pick a side. What's it going to be?"

Dear God. 'Do what must be done'. You took the words right out of Paxton's mouth...

"I'm in, sir. And you can count on me, sir." She said. _What the hell was the alternative?_

"You're not Starfleet Intel any more. You reading me, Granger?" He warned. "And that nice, deep hole with no bottom will be right there waiting for you. In case you decide to run off some time. It's _always _waiting for you."

"Understood, sir." She said, stoically.

Purely professional, no personal opinion here. Sally Granger obeys orders and questions nothing. Yes, sir. No, sir. Thank you, sir, and please.

Murphy considered her intently for a moment.

"I like you, Sally. Always have." He said. "And you're damned good at what you do. You're a hell of an asset, one we couldn't pass up. But you've got a bad habit of going rogue and that has to stop now. Because as much as I like you…I won't hesitate. You read me?"

"I read you, sir." She answered, sharply. She'd have saluted, if that hadn't been pushing it a bit.

Murphy nodded, satisfied.

"Very good." He said. "You have an S.I. team arriving within the hour. We'll leave Mars to them."

So he was pulling her out...to who knows where. For who knows _what_.

"Where do you need me, sir?" She asked.

"Earth orbit. The Enterprise." He said. "We've got a mess to clean up on Vulcan. We'll brief you fully en route."

"Understood, sir. I'll be ready."

"See you there, Granger." He said. "And welcome to Section 31."


	13. Chapter 13

**Starfleet Headquarters**

**San Francisco, California**

Sally Granger leapt off the MACO fast shuttle at platform four, practically high-stepping it for the reception area before she'd even hit the ground. With everything on Mars progressing as quickly as it had, she was approaching 48 hours without sleep now. So she fully intended to be bouncing right back up the gravity well to the Enterprise as soon as humanly possible. On a proper Starfleet interface shuttle, specifically.

Napping through the short trip back to Earth on a fast shuttle had simply been beyond her capabilities. The MACO didn't call those things "Vomit Comets" for nothing. The inertial dampeners were woefully inadequate to begin with and the ponderous deflector system necessary to keep cosmic radiation from flooding those cramped little two-seaters just made it all the worse. You spent half the trip with a wildly fluctuating five to six G's on your chest…and the other half with the same on your back. And even for that three or four minute window in between where you actually got to float a bit, due to the total lack of artificial gravity, the antiquated propulsion system was annoyingly _loud_.

In short, the trip had really sucked. A proper, _modern _interface shuttle was going to be perfectly luxurious by comparison. She couldn't wait.

In the meantime, she was in a pissy mood.

As she quick-timed it through the front entrance, she spotted Sergeant Hap Nielson right away. He was chatting it up with a couple of Denobulans not twenty yards from the door. Surprised, she recognized them as the same two sales reps that had been touring the place when she left…and almost wondered why they were _still _hanging around Command after all this time…

God, she realized. Seems like a whole year I've been gone. Hadn't even been three days, local time.

But Hap Nielson…he was Starfleet Intel's Logistics Chief. Which meant he was the guy to see. He knew stuff.

"Happy!" She called out, already drawing close enough that yelling across the lobby wasn't really all that appropriate.

For a Starfleet Officer, Hap liked to yell. That didn't lend itself well to a serious, semi-public institution like Starfleet Headquarters, of course…but he had country boy roots. So "hollerin'" across the lobby was a good way to get on his good side easily. And if there was any way to get orbital quicker than running the gauntlet at Command, then Nielson would be able to point the way for her.

So she didn't _mind _hollerin'. Hap knew all the shortcuts.

"Sally!" Nielson called back. "Hey, hey! Heard you got promoted!"

"No, you didn't." She warned.

"Right." He nodded, with mock seriousness. "Haven't heard a thing. I know nothing. So what's new?"

"I got promoted." She smiled.

"Is that right?" He asked. "See? No one tells me _anything _around here."

Sally chuckled. "Well it was bound to happen sooner or later."

She'd leave it to him to figure whether she referred to her promotion…or the suggestion that he might actually _not _be on top of something for once.

Nielson was pleased with the banter though, she was glad to see. He already liked her but…a guy like Happy you had to _make _happy before hitting him up for something.

"Okay, so I need to get back up the well." She said. "Double quick, to the Enterprise. I haven't slept in…"

"Well, you missed hitching a ride with Captain Archer by about four hours." Nielson said, jumping right in. "But if you've got _clearance _already…Ensign Mayweather, helm officer, should still be over at platform two somewhere. Shuttled a civilian down a few minutes ago."

Just what she wanted to hear. She smacked Nielson affectionately on the arm as she passed. "Thanks, Happy. I'll dance at your funeral."

"And I'll cry at your wedding!" He called back, finishing the joke.

Then he realized she was about to get away…and he hadn't mentioned…

"Hey, Sally!" He called. "Hold up!"

Sally halted, irritated at the delay but determined not to let it show. Lack of sleep made her more than a little disagreeable.

Hap jogged up. "So you're going up there on account of that baby, right? The clone?"

She suddenly wasn't sure, the way he'd worded it, but…

"Yeah, I suppose." She said. "Terra Prime, anyway. But I can't really talk about it, Happy…"

"No, no." He corrected. "The _baby_, I mean."

Sally could only shrug at that. What _about _the baby?

"Well, if you're the agent handling all that, just thought you should know." He said, speaking a bit more discreetly now. "I've got twenty containers of infant supplies and a lot of perishable formula heading up that way. Which…considering that baby's supposed to be _dying_…"

He waited for Sally to get the point…which she didn't seem to be getting.

"Mean to say is…" He said, "If we're putting the word out that the baby isn't going to make it then we aren't doing a very good job of covering it up, ordering supplies like that out in the open. I reported it to Murphy but I'm _still _getting req's in the open. Sooner or later someone's going to pick up on that."

Sally realized what he meant.

"Uh…Happy." She hesitated. "As far as I know the baby _is _dying. You're saying they're ordering too many supplies for that?"

Hap snorted. "About six month's worth."

Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Don't know what to tell you, Happy." She shrugged. "The last I heard was that she was in serious trouble. I'd have to go up and take a look myself. Speaking of which…" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and winked.

"Yeah, yeah." He assured, waving her on. "Go on ahead. Just thought I'd give you a heads up."

"Okay." She said, already walking away. "But do me a favor and put a lid on that, would yah?"

Sally was glad to get away before she got snappish. She liked Happy to begin with and he wasn't one to get on the bad side of anyway. Kind of hard to get anything done around Command with the Logistics Chief displeased with you.

By the time she reached platform two she was even more in a hurry than before, though. And quite decidedly snappish. Bitchy, even, to be perfectly honest. She'd run into no less than three other acquaintances with whom she found she couldn't answer any questions and so she was forced to confront the obvious at last. The higher clearance level, among _other _things, was promising to be something of a detriment to her social life. And she was already a little bitter about it all anyway…

* * *

Travis Mayweather hated to admit it…but he didn't want to say goodbye to Gannet. He wasn't about to let that _show_, of course…

Yeah, it still did. The goodbye was proceeding awkwardly and reluctantly, which just made him stiffen up all the more. As much as he didn't want to see her walk away, he really wanted the whole uncomfortable thing to be over with even more. He owed her at least an _attempt _at an amicable end, though…

Which…the woman jogging up and nearly sliding right between the two of them sure didn't help much.

She was tall, with short dark hair and some fairly…_boyish _features, to put it politely. And a look of no nonsense irritation that forced him to pause a moment before expressing his disagreement at the interruption.

Gannet didn't give him time to express it anyway. It was immediately clear that she knew the woman. And didn't like her very much at all.

"Granger." She said, disdainfully. Lips suddenly tight, eyes narrow. Shoulders squared. All the telltale signs of a possible catfight in the near future, Travis noted with some concern.

He could see the other woman recognized her as well. In fact, that seemed to have been what caused her to put on the brakes like that. He supposed she _had _intended to butt right in before she realized just who she was butting in on.

"Brooks." The woman frowned right back. Not so much disdainful as very, very cold.

Gannet smirked at her then, already folding her arms and examining the woman up and down.

"Well, you look a mess." She observed. "Out late drinking with the fellahs?"

"Leave the reading to the professionals, slut." Granger snapped. "You're a swallow, so go swallow somebody."

Travis was taken aback at the blatant insult. Never mind the 'slut' remark. He probably wasn't supposed to recognize the meaning of 'swallow' in that context but he did. A female spy who used sex to secure information. And Gannet's eyes snapped wide at that as well. Of course _she _was familiar with it.

Travis was suddenly sure the two were going to go at it right there on the platform and he'd be forced to intervene…but the other woman turned to him then, already ignoring Gannet.

"You're Ensign Mayweather?" She demanded.

He was still staring at her, amazed at the rudeness he'd just witnessed.

"Excuse me!" He said, once he'd found his voice. Maybe he and Gannet weren't _together _exactly…but he wasn't about to let this woman speak to her that way. "This is a private conversation. If you don't mind…"

He left it hanging there. He shouldn't have to specify 'go away and come back with some manners', after all.

The woman sighed then, still glowering.

"Okay, fine." She grumbled, reaching into her jacket for…identification. Starfleet identification.

"Commander Granger, S.I." She grumbled. "So, _Ensign_, get your shuttle prepped. You're taking me to the Enterprise. You can confirm that with Command."

"And you…" She said, turning her glare at Gannet. "You're a little overdue to report, aren't you? So how about you shake your ass back to HQ?"

She was already whisking past him to board the shuttle…_his _shuttle…before Travis could respond to any of that. Leaving Gannet _steaming _in her wake…

"Dyke." She accused, at the woman's back.

Turning out of sight, inside the shuttle, the S.I. Officer's reply trailed behind her. "That's _Commander _Dyke to you, bitch."

Travis could only look to Brooks. A perfectly confused '_what in the world…' _look.

Gannet half-smiled in apology then. "I'm sorry." She said. "I've got to go."

Sparing a hateful glare at the shuttle…she promised him, "I'll see you again, Travis."

And, with a smile, turned and walked away.

As he watched her leave he was forced to admit…it had actually been a better goodbye than he'd _otherwise _been expecting. He still had no idea what _that _was all about, though…and no, we're not letting _that _slide, either…

He turned, frowning and angry, to march through the shuttle door. Determined to bring this officer to task for her rude behavior. Starfleet Intel or not.

"Commander…" He started, one he'd arrived. Voice firm and resolved…until he realized the woman was out cold in the starboard rear seat.

_Snoring _a little already, in fact.

It had only been twenty seconds, at most!

Travis finally had to just toss up his hands, have a seat himself and make the call to confirm this strange woman was supposed to be on his shuttle in the first place. Which, unfortunately, it would seem she was.

* * *

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

In the Mess Hall, at the very convenient back corner table, Malcolm waited and commiserated, his hand on Trip's shoulder.

It was a bit much to absorb all at once and the chap had been through a lot over the last few days already. He didn't expect Trip to start _crying _or anything but...he really didn't want to risk that just now. So he held a hand to the man's shoulder and left it at that. No point in provoking things.

Of course, he really did empathize. He understood well enough what Trip must be feeling. He'd been shocked at even the suggestion some of his own men might be less that trustworthy. Even merely that one or two had crossed paths with Terra Prime _years _ago had unsettled him quite a bit. For one of them to be revealed as actually _working _for them…and everything Masaro had done as a result of that…

Trip moved his hand away from his eyes, where'd he'd been hiding them, assimilating everything Malcolm had told him. He ran his fingers through his hair then and sighed.

"I feel like such an idiot." He said. Which surprised Malcolm. That wasn't at all how he'd expected Trip to react. _An idiot how?_

"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked. "Trip, you couldn't have predicted any of this."

"Maybe not but I _should _have known that…" Trip frowned, shaking his head. "I _did _know, Malcolm. I knew he was…"

Malcolm waited, trying to guess at Trip was getting at.

"After the Xindi attack." Trip said. "He'd say things sometimes that…_We'd _say things sometimes. The both of us. I was too angry then I guess to…"

Oh. Now he got it.

"Trip." He consoled. "I really don't think you can blame yourself…"

"I'm not." Trip denied. "But I _knew _how he felt and I just…ignored it. Didn't want to deal with it. I snapped out of it myself, Malcolm, once I got to _know _the people I hated so much. The people I _blamed _for everything. I should have talked to him then."

"It wouldn't have made a difference." Malcolm insisted. "He didn't have a _reason _to hate."

"Doesn't matter." Trip argued. "I should have tried. And look what happened to him. If I'd been there for him…or even _tried _to be anyway…maybe he would have come to _me _instead of…"

"Trip." Malcolm said, sternly. "Listen to yourself, man. I understand how you feel right now but you know very well there's nothing you could have done. _No one _knew Masaro was wound this tightly. No one could have predicted this."

Trip sighed, looking away for a long moment.

Then nodded back at him. "Okay." He said. "Okay, you're right. But it's more than that, Malcolm."

Malcolm waited. And listened. And pondered when in the world he'd become the bloody ship's counselor.

But this was Trip. And Trip was his friend. So…he waited. And listened.

Trip shook his head, snorting at himself a little. "Malcolm…I can't help but think…if Masaro had been recruiting for Terra Prime way back then, I'd have probably joined up."

Ah, so. He should have known that one was coming. Back when Trip first mentioned he and Masaro _both _'saying things sometimes'.

"And you'd have sabotaged shuttles? Risked the lives of your fellow officers?" Malcolm challenged. "Shot yourself in front of your commanding officer?"

Trip didn't answer to any of that. No, Malcolm knew. Of course he wouldn't have done any of those things.

"I wish you _had _joined Terra Prime, Trip." Malcolm said. "Because we'd have a man on the inside right about now, wouldn't we?"

Trip snorted again, smiling slightly.

"Yeah." He said. "Yeah, I guess you would."

Malcolm patted him on the shoulder at that. Right enough, that's a good man.

Trip cleared his throat then. "Malcolm." He said, turning to him. "Thanks."

Oh, bloody hell. Let's not have any of that, now.

"Right." He said, quickly. Before Trip could get mushy. And he would have deflected back to him, asked about the baby and whatnot.

But Commander T'Pol appeared out of nowhere then. Looking…concerned?

"Lieutenant." She said, acknowledging him. "Commander Tucker?"

Malcolm could _feel _Trip stiffen up, the moment he'd realized she was there.

"I'm fine, T'Pol." He said. He didn't look up, picking at his dinner instead. The meal that had surely gone cold quite a while ago.

T'Pol gave Malcolm a quick look then. Assessing him, he realized. Deciding whether or not to say…_something _in his presence.

"I sensed you were disturbed." She admitted. "I was concerned that Elizabeth..."

Trip was picking up his plate then suddenly. Leaving the table.

"I'm going to get upset sometimes, T'Pol." He insisted, passing her by. "That can't be helped. I'm Human. Better get used to that."

T'Pol didn't turn to follow him as he moved passed her to deposit his tray.

"I am well aware you are Human, Commander." She said. Pretty strongly implying something there.

Well, now. We have some drama, it would seem. Malcolm decided…this would be a good time to make himself scarce…

"_Senior officers report to the Main Conference Room." _The shipwide comm announced_. "All senior officers, Main Conference Room."_

Well, saved by the bell...

* * *

Archer waited until everyone had found a seat and made themselves ready for briefing. He was disturbed already at a couple of things he noticed, though.

Mayweather's look of disgust with the Starfleet Intelligence Officer he'd shuttled up so unexpectedly, for one thing. It was obvious something had occurred there that had provoked significant resentment from him.

She was sucking down coffee like there was no tomorrow at the moment, though. For which he was a little grateful. If she'd caught on to Travis glaring at her that way, she might take exception. That was a confrontation he didn't really want to be involved in, considering the woman's very intimidating security clearance.

And Trip and T'Pol…sitting _across _the table from one another. Again. Not looking at one another a single time since they'd entered the room. Again. He was tempted to put a halt to everything right then, to drag those two out of the room and demand an accounting. But he suspected he'd only find the whole situation there was a lost cause after all.

He didn't want to consider he might have to take steps there already…in an official capacity. Not that it mattered in the end. If their baby really was going to be alright then he'd have to face losing one or both of them anyway, he knew. Trip certainly. He had no doubt there. T'Pol…well, he didn't know much about how Vulcans approached parenthood but he assumed it was inherently logical…with a completely contradictory foundation in some mystical tradition or other at the same time. Which meant, he could only guess, she'd likely be submitting her resignation soon, too.

But all that aside. He'd have to deal with _this _before anything of _that_.

"I know you've all got duties to attend to." He said. "Most of them have been put off by recent events. So I'll keep my part of this short."

He folded his hands behind him, standing at ease. Lending a serious air to the meeting he hoped his crew would adopt. They were all casting glances at the woman at the refreshment station across the room. Better they comport themselves professionally _before _they figured out just what she represented.

"We have new orders." He announced. "Officially, we're redirecting to Vulcan to deliver supplies and diplomatic packets to the Earth embassy. _Unofficially_…to allow two of our senior officers to see to personal matters there. With the full support of Starfleet and Earth government."

All eyes turned to Trip and T'Pol then, neither of whom knew anything about that yet, of course.

He took a breath. "Even _more _unofficially…confidentially, in fact…we're escorting a Starfleet Intelligence Officer to Vulcan to follow up on some leads from the Terra Prime investigation."

"I'll let Commander Granger take over from here." He said. "Commander?"

He stepped aside to make room for her, though she was still across the room, consorting with the coffee dispenser.

She snatched up the cup she'd just filled and shuffled quickly over, her brow furrowed and already looking irritated with everyone in the room.

"Right." She said shortly, once she'd arrived. "I'm Commander Granger, Starfleet Intelligence. I haven't slept in about two days, I'm hyped up on caffeine and drunk on fatigue toxins. So I'm in no mood. Let's keep this short and to the point. If you have any questions, they better be good ones and worth interrupting me for."

She spared a general frown for everyone in attendance then. "Apologies in advance. I'll be sunshine and buttercups later, when I've slept."

Archer almost groaned. Way to go, Commander. That's a hell of a professional attitude. But he kept his face blank, focused on hearing her out. Again, not wanting to encourage his crew to take this woman anything but seriously.

Still, he was beginning to see how Travis could have decided he didn't like the woman so quickly. And Travis liked _everyone_.

"Okay. First. I don't want to bother with figuring out who knows what and to what degree." She said, tiredly. "So let's start from the beginning and work our way from there to here. I'll leave it to you folks to keep up."

She produced an odd-looking PADD from her jacket pocket, plugging it into the port at the edge of the table near her. Tapping the controls there, she activated the screen on the wall behind her and with a few more taps had a picture on display. A grainy image, obviously covert surveillance of some sort, showing a Vulcan male. A smaller shot in the corner, much clearer, focused on his face. Probably from a file of some sort.

"This is the part you don't know." She said. "This man is Storak. Worked at the embassy on Earth up until a few days ago, when he died in a very interesting manner. Officially an 'assistant' there, which can mean anything from janitor to secretary to gopher."

Granger sipped her coffee then, turning the face the crew again.

"This is the case I worked immediately _before _this one." She said. "Vulcan embassy assistant, making coded transmissions from _off _embassy grounds to diplomatic vessels in orbit. Wasn't much to it at first…until we stumbled across the little sex parties he was throwing in his off hours. Involving, we discovered later, a certain Ensign at Starfleet Research and Development. Who was working on a certain project no one in this room is cleared to know about…but every one of you can likely guess at."

Granger shrugged, rubbing her forehead. "If you need a hint, I'll suggest that the last two dozen advisory reports Commander Tucker submitted to R&D over the last year play heavily into that research."

Trip took an even more active interest then. And Malcolm as well, Archer noticed. Not that the implication had slipped past _him_. Project Bluebird. Which, whatever Granger might think, he _was _cleared to know about.

"Wait…" Trip interrupted. "You can't be talking about what I think you are…"

"Very likely, yes." Granger sighed.

"No." Trip argued. "Because there's nothing there the Vulcans don't already know. And even if they didn't…with the agreements we have in place, they could almost walk right in and take notes if they wanted to."

Granger frowned. "Which is the intriguing point here, Commander. Why go through the bother? Unless Storak _wasn't_ working for Vulcan."

"Now, before you interrupt me any _further_…" She warned. "Let's jump to the exciting part. Once we had a link between Storak and R&D, we moved in. Made the arrest in the back alley of a bar downtown…and then, when Storak was down, being taken into custody, the man suddenly burst into flames. Leaving us nothing but a pile of ash to work with. For no reason anyone can adequately explain."

"Now…" She said, capitalizing on everyone's surprise at that to move forward. Before anyone could ask questions again. "Local PD raises a stink about that. So naturally Command shuffles me off to Mars to get me out of the way while they deal with that…which proves very convenient considering recent events there."

"And again, what _most _of you don't know." She said, glancing at Lieutenant Reed. He knew this part, at least. She'd forwarded him the report herself. "Our first action on Mars was a raid on a subspace communications relay, which made a number of unusual coded transmissions to Luna right before Paxton's facility decided to relocate itself."

She tapped the controls again, summoning to picture of another Vulcan male to the screen behind her.

"The spotter turns out to be a man named S'ton." She said. "Vulcan. Who, when we confronted him, behaved in an unusual manner. Sneering. Mocking. Behaving aggressively. For all of three seconds before we stunned him, of course, due to his attempting to attack the officer conducting the arrest. And then, once he's down, unconscious and in the process of being cuffed…bursting into flames and burning to ash for no apparent reason."

She waited a moment, to be sure everyone had caught up.

"So. We have two Vulcans." She said. "One on Earth, one on Mars. Both involved in completely unrelated incidents. Both displaying behavior decidedly atypical for Vulcans. One engaging in casual sex like it's a hobby, the other displaying emotion and aggression as comfortably as a Human might. Both originating directly from Vulcan and both burning to ash once they were taken into custody."

Another tap at the controls and two pictures, side by side, appeared behind her. Two distinctly humanoid piles of ash. One in a dark alleyway, the other on the floor of a brightly lit room somewhere.

She shrugged. "I'll jump ahead again. To the part I'm sure you'd all realize once you've had a chance to. Neither man was working on anything that would benefit Vulcan in the slightest. S'ton was working quite actively _against _Vulcan, for that matter. And, I'll point out, the only benefit to either of them burning up this way is that it nicely prevents autopsy and forensic examination."

"Add to this how very silent our counterparts, the V'shar, are on this matter. And Paxton's surprising suicide..." She continued. "...and I'll go ahead and share my conviction the man was under some form of mind control which led to that...and what you've got is an unidentified foreign agency working against Earth. One already deeply entrenched on Vulcan, using our connection with them to infiltrate us in turn. Which suggests this agency is concerned not merely with Earth and Vulcan but very probably quite a lot more than that. The entire coalition, certainly."

"So, we are going to Vulcan. To root that out." She announced. "And while _they _may well know we're coming we need to keep civilian attention off of this for now. In fact, the attention of _everyone _not already involved. Which is where Commander T'Pol comes in."

Granger turned her attention to her then. And everyone else's in the room in the process.

"Commander." She said. "Your clan hasn't written you off completely just yet, so they'll be sending their condolences along. Keeping up appearances, paying homage to proper custom and all that. You've probably got a private subspace communication waiting for you in your quarters, or will soon enough. A formal_ vipladau-t'tushat. _And if the last they've heard is that your child has died…which we've made sure _is _the last they've heard on that…it'll be worded a certain way, correct?"

T'Pol blinked slowly at that, considering.

"If I understand your intention…" T'Pol said. "Then I must refuse. I cannot allow Elizabeth to be used…"

"Well, you can object of course, Commander." Granger replied, crossly. "I'll help you fill out the compliant, if you like. But you're going to take them up on their offer of recognition. As if it were intended sincerely. And as if they were aware the baby was alive when they made the offer. And that'll give us a excuse to go to Vulcan that the civilian press and everyone else can busy themselves with."

"As far as anyone is concerned, I'm here on the Enterprise to help Lieutenant Reed with his investigation here, locally." She insisted. "I'm just along for the ride. And while you and Commander Tucker keep attention off of the rest of us getting your child's Vulcan citizenship and clan status recognized, we'll be rooting out a very significant threat to Earth in the meantime. If it's any consolation, you can count on some fairly serious diplomatic pressure from Earth working in your favor there."

Seeing Commander T'Pol was not quite convinced...she proceeded to the next stage of her argument.

"If you decide to file that complaint after all, Commander, I wouldn't recommend you word it too strongly." She warned. "You might find the requisite Starfleet officials back on Earth not sympathizing overmuch with your reluctance to do your part in all this. Your cooperation here is more critical than you suspect."

Commander Tucker was stirring, looking as if he might inject himself into things…

"And before _you _object, Commander…" She said to him. "I'll go ahead and inform you that Elizabeth's Earth citizenship hinges on _your _cooperation in this matter as well."

Trip was already growing angry. "Are you…_threatening _us here?"

"Extortion, more precisely." She corrected. "We expect neither of you to be very eager to participate in playing games like this with T'Pol's clan. I know I certainly wouldn't want to. And we can't very well _order _you two to cooperate in this matter…so that leaves convincing you to. _Forcing _you to. So you two make up your minds how difficult you want to be about all this and we'll adjust the pressure we intend to bring to bear accordingly."

"And trust me." She warned. "We're quite prepared to go the extra mile here."


	14. Chapter 14

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**Earth orbit**

Granger glanced around the conference room. To all appearances, a casual glance. But she was seeking, identifying and processing the reactions of the crewmen so far. Pretty much as expected all around, she noted. The level of hostility directed her way had certainly spiked when it became obvious the pressure that Starfleet Intelligence was prepared to bring against Tucker and T'Pol. The pressure _she _was prepared to bring.

These were the two crewmen, senior staff both of them, who'd suffered the most recently. It was they that the crew assembled before her most strongly identified with at the moment.

The Helm Officer already had sufficient reason not to care for her much, after having insulted his erstwhile girlfriend. She'd have to buy Gannet a drink some time for that one. She'd played her part _amazingly_, especially considering she'd had practically no advanced warning. A subtle hand signal that could have easily been misinterpreted.

Reed, the Tactical Officer, was starting to get resentful…though he was straining mightily _not _to. Taking discipline and the chain of command very seriously, that one. She didn't expect any difficulty with the rest of the crew, though a couple of them were proving slow to respond. The Denobulan doctor was probably going to be the hold out here though, being much more amicable by nature than any of the Humans at the table. She'd get to him soon enough. All told…none of them liked her very much just then.

Good, she thought.

This is a good crew. Very unified, mutually supportive. Loyal to one another, to the exclusion of all else. Ready to stand together against the entire rest of universe if it came to that point. They just needed a threat to stand together against.

"Let me make clear exactly what we're dealing with here." She snapped, getting back on track. "Some of you seem to be missing the implications."

"An agency of some sort is at work behind the scenes, responsible for everything we've seen up until now." She said. "And quite a lot we _haven't _seen. An agency working from Vulcan, the home world of our closest ally. Able to effect a powerful and subtle form of mind control, against high-profile individuals like John Paxton. Fielding agents almost anywhere they like, including the Vulcan embassy on Earth. Able to reduce those agents to ash instantly, the moment they are compromised."

"For now we're working from the assumption that this must be a Vulcan cult of some sort." She advised, "Or some little known secret society perhaps. Something we've been unaware of until now. An organization with considerable influence and one that's been around long enough to have a lot of experience with covert infiltration."

She paused then, to emphasize the coming point.

"But that doesn't eliminate the possibility we're dealing with something even broader. An infiltration of both Vulcan and Earth by an outside agency. One able to recruit native assets from _both _worlds. Which suggests an enemy that's hardly comprehensible. Entirely unlike anything we've faced before. Something we had all better be hoping and praying is _not _the case."

"So I suggest you all develop some focus. Maintain a proper perspective. Remember that you are Starfleet officers and may be required to make some uncomfortable personal sacrifices in the interests of preserving the security of Earth and her allies. This was asked of you before, in response to the Xindi threat. And you responded admirably. This may well be required of you again here."

"If any of you feel you are unable to do that, then I invite you say so now." She said. "I'm perfectly prepared to respond to that."

She waited. She didn't expect anyone to say anything or speak up…but she had to give them time to decide not to. To submit to Starfleet's authority. And to hers, however antagonist she might appear at the moment.

So, yeah. She'd laid it on pretty thick. But she was a firm believer in being over prepared. Her instructors long ago had a name for it. Tactical paranoia. And it was a _necessity _in field work.

These folks needed some of that.

Seeing she'd sharpened everyone's senses reasonably, she nodded at last and sipped her coffee. Letting the fatigue seep back into her posture, letting her eyes droop. Frowning, irritable, bitchy. A thoroughly discomforting presence in the room. Someone who could be expected to snap at anything that displeased her.

"Good." She grumped. "So if we've got all the whining out of the way, let's get on with it."

She tapped the controls on the table again, replacing the pictures there with a delineated listing.

She said. "This is a rough timeline for the Enterprise." She said. "Going all the way back to her maiden voyage to Qo'noS. This is also what first prompted us to consider the Vulcan home world might not be the staging point for the covert activity we're dealing with, as you'll see."

"Here." She said, indicating the last line of the list. "This is where we stand now. With a child cloned by Terra Prime. One which your Doctor Phlox estimated to be six to seven months old."

"Which, by the way, Doctor…" She said, speaking to Phlox. "Who's watching that child now? I understand you haven't requested support staff since Ensign Cutler's death."

Phlox looked a little surprised but answered smoothly enough. "Lieutenant Reed has assigned a pair of security officers to Sickbay in my absence. Crewman Rossi has volunteered her help with…"

"_Crewman _Rossi?" Sally asked, frowning. "Does the crewman possess any medical training at all, Doctor?"

Phlox shifted uncomfortably. "Well…_basic _medical training. The standard medical…"

"And you feel that is sufficient?" Sally pressed. "Any reason you haven't requested a replacement for Ensign Cutler before now? Cross-training someone, perhaps?"

The Denobulan was finally becoming uncomfortable, she noticed. But the Captain stepped in before she could push him any further.

"Is there something you're suggesting, Commander?" He asked. Rather defensively, she noted.

She frowned. "Not yet." She said. "I do find it odd that Doctor Phlox represents your entire medical staff, Captain. But we'll get to that in a moment."

She returned her attention to the screen. "We've confirmed through medical logs seized from Paxton's facility that the child is exactly six months and twelve days old, born _here_…July, 2154. At that time Enterprise was responding to the bombing of the Earth embassy on Vulcan. Your own investigation erroneously concludes the genetic material Terra Prime utilized was likely passed to them by Ensign Masaro at that time."

She gave Lieutenant Reed a frowning, disappointed glare before continuing.

"We've confirmed _someone _aboard the Enterprise was responsible for that from Paxton's own security footage, where he admits as much to Commander Tucker. But that doesn't take into account the time required by the cloning process itself, nor gestation and in utero development..."

"Excuse me, Commander." Reed interrupted. "We were hardly aware of processes involved. We were working entirely on…"

"Well, you should have made yourself aware, Lieutenant." She snapped. "Even with a surrogate involved rather than the artificial womb you assumed in your report, this puts your estimate off considerably. I find it curious that you didn't consult with Doctor Phlox on that point."

Malcolm was insulted at that but conceded his estimate had been wrong without further argument. He shrugged and nodded acknowledgement, like a good soldier…even if he _was _bitterly offended.

Granger could tell hostility had spiked again in the room as well. She'd nearly pushed everyone to the breaking point already. Ensign Sato especially hadn't liked that. Her frown was deepening but she was too busy reading the Tactical Officer, empathizing with him, to come to his defense herself.

"Taking that into account, this pushes the date of conception back at least to September of '53." Granger continued. "When the Enterprise was deep in the Expanse."

Malcolm spoke up again. "Which would push back the hand off itself quite a bit _before _that."

So he was still on board, ready to work with the abrasive Intel Officer who'd swooped in to snap at everyone. As long as it got the job done, that was still his first concern.

"Exactly." She nodded. "No later than July of '53, when Enterprise was at Earth in response to the Xindi attack. I find it highly unlikely that genetic material from the ship's medical freezer was passed to Terra Prime _after _that point. They received it on or before August of '53, began cloning procedures to effect a large enough sample to work with immediately and had an embryo viable for implantation within the month."

"Assuming that's when the transfer was made, of course." She said. "And everything going so smoothly, which I find difficult to believe. A ten month gestation period, due to her hybrid nature, an easy birth and a further six months steady growth while Enterprise made her way home for the Coalition conference. All according to some very sketchy record keeping by Doctor Mercer, of course."

"Wait a minute." Commander Tucker chimed in, "Back then T'Pol and I weren't even…well, I mean…we were barely friends then. Why'd they pick _us _for this?"

He was thoroughly confused, Sally noticed. Focused entirely on the perceived affront to him personally. And so, completely missing the very powerful look Commander T'Pol was blasting across the table at him…

Interesting. This was a point of contention between the two. T'Pol wasn't merely trying to shut him up, to keep him from tossing their romance on the table for discussion. Rather, she seemed to have scored a point somewhere in there that she wanted him to acknowledge.

The two of them had apparently wandered dangerously far away from anything resembling discretion. And everyone else in the room were taking pains, out of habit, to avoid recognizing the fact. Those two had become the unspoken. The thing everyone knows and no one talks about.

"According to what intel we've managed to gather you were never intended to be involved, Commander." She said. "All indications point to Captain Archer being the original target here. It seems whoever grabbed those bio-samples made a little mistake."

That prompted a bit of rabble from the crew sitting around the table. Captain Archer not the least.

"Me?" He asked, incredulously. "Why me?"

She frowned harshly then. "That should be obvious, Captain. As Commander Tucker unintentionally pointed out, rumors concerning the two of them wouldn't begin circulating anywhere beyond this ship for some months yet. It wouldn't become prevalent enough to make it's way into any intel files I've seen until well into '54. You were the obvious choice for this at the time, considering what a child between the two of you would imply. This was partly an attack on the character of this vessel and her crew, or have you not realized that yet?"

"Well, I suppose I granted Terra Prime more credit than they deserved." Archer replied, stiffly.

"You did. They were very fortunate in a lot of areas, where anything and everything could have gone wrong. Not that it really matters in this case." She pointed out. "Commander T'Pol was the primary target here. The father was incidental. Any senior officer aboard this ship would have served their purposes."

That caught Commander T'Pol's attention. With, interestingly enough, a very obvious look of surprised realization from her. One strong enough that she'd completely missed the clear admission that Starfleet Command was well aware of the relationship between the two Commanders.

That should have been what the Vulcan First Officer found most troubling…if she were thinking like a Vulcan at the moment. Instead she seemed more focused on the fact that her relationship with Tucker hadn't anything to do with her being targeted by Terra Prime.

From what she'd seen already, Granger had to concede intel on her mental state wasn't far off the mark. The woman was practically an open book. Emotional controls shot to hell. It was a wonder she hadn't murdered anyone yet, especially considering what she'd been through recently.

Sally decided she'd pushed enough and had what she needed. Time to wrap this up. And she really was bone tired, after all.

"All of which is immaterial to the point, however." She continued. "That being Ensign Cutler's death in September of '53. Leaving Doctor Phlox the only medical officer authorized to access bio-samples in Sickbay…immediately _after _the latest point at which those sample must have been taken."

She turned her attention to Phlox then. Accusingly.

"Which, to my mind, warrants further investigation into the manner of Cutler's death." She said.

That was the last straw for all involved. The room devolved into outrage almost immediately, with several officers speaking at once, talking over one another in the attempt to come to the doctor's defense.

Which was a relief to Sally. She'd run out of ways to _subtly _piss everyone off.

* * *

Captain Archer shut the hatch to the conference room, after seeing the last of his senior officers out. He turned to Sally Granger then. Outraged…and bewildered.

"Would you mind explaining to me, Commander, what you hoped to accomplish with that?" He demanded.

Sally couldn't help but smirk a little. "That's an interesting crew you have there, Captain." She observed.

"That doesn't answer my question." Archer snapped.

Sally leaned back against the refreshment station, grabbing up the fresh cup of coffee she'd poured herself while the Captain had herded the irate crew out the door.

"Your Tactical Officer is more or less as his psych profile suggests." She said. "A consummate professional. I'd be surprised he didn't pursue a military career but aquaphobia precludes the only option available to him there, the Royal Navy. Hence his service with Starfleet, as a compromise to the expectations of a traditionally military family. I find his concession on the minor point I hammered him on pretty telling. Anyone else would have defended themselves more vigorously. I presented myself as a superior authority and it wasn't worth arguing with a superior officer over...so he didn't."

"In point of fact, he never defended _himself _at all." She pointed out. "He said '_we _were hardly aware…', not '_I_ was hardly aware.' He was defending the Enterprise."

Archer's eyes narrowed at that…but more was forthcoming, so he waited.

"Doctor Phlox was close to Ensign Cutler." She observed. "That's why he hasn't requested a replacement. He doesn't want one. And you're aware of that, so you haven't pushed it. And, of course, there didn't seem to be any need, considering how very capable he is. He's also adopted the crew as his family, which is no small thing for a Denobulan. And since any suspicion that he was involved in transferring those bio-samples off this ship is absurd, that also explains how Ensign Masaro gained access to them."

"I think we'll find when we look further into that, Doctor Phlox will suddenly recall the Ensign volunteering for duty in Sickbay at some point a couple of years ago. Something which the Doctor has so far failed to realize the significance of, due to simply thinking too highly of you people. He hasn't quite internalized the fact that Masaro was a traitor. Denobulans more or less _have _to think that way, assuming the best of their family members. The complex demands of their society kind of require that."

Archer was catching up, she noticed. And he wasn't at all happy about it. Certainly not the implication that she already understood his crew as well as he did. Better, possibly.

"Hoshi Sato." She continued. "Didn't say a thing during the whole meeting. She's a linguist. She was quiet because there was so much powerful body language and subtle interaction going on that it occupied all of her attention. Spoken language being only one form of communication, after all. I suspect she knows a lot more about what goes on in people's heads around here than anyone realizes. There's more to say there but I'd be compromising her to expound on that. I like her, though."

"Ensign Mayweather was just enjoying watching me anger everyone." She shrugged. "He'll never admit it, of course. But I managed to earn his displeasure before I even got here. He doesn't involve himself much because he prefers staying out of the spotlight unless he has something to contribute directly, which he's eager to do when he feels that he does. Consequently, you don't take advantage of his experience nearly as much as you should. It doesn't occur to you to."

Now Archer was getting angry. Taking it personally. Which was fine. He'd gotten the point…but he wasn't prepared to _concede _the point yet.

"Tucker's an interesting one." She said. "Can't decide whether I like him or not. He's charming, handsome and southern. Also a hell of a lot smarter than everyone assumes. And not because he embraces the power of being underestimated. Rather because he's charming, handsome and southern. He's not in the habit of using his brains because he's never really had to. He gets smart just long enough to deal with a problem he's expected to be smart about…then goes back to being charming, handsome and southern. That's also why he misses a lot that should otherwise be perfectly obvious to him. Right now, most of that involves Commander T'Pol."

"And there's a lot to be said _there_, Captain." She said, frowning now. "Have you realized yet your top two officers are bonded? And that Commander T'Pol's close to a nervous breakdown because of it?"

She could see right away that he hadn't, although she knew that much already. But he wasn't about let _her _know that either. So he sailed right on past it, trying not to betray the complete shock that had caused him.

"If you're trying to make a point, Commander, then I'm afraid I've missed it somewhere." Archer said. "The fact of the matter is that you've just alienated the entire bridge crew of this ship. And you're going to..."

"That's not my problem." She interrupted. "That's _your _problem. They work for you, not for me. _You _work for me. And they'll do what I require because _you _require it of them. I'm not here to join your crew, Captain. I'm not here to take command either. I'm nobody. I'm an outsider. And that's what I need to be here."

"You'll need their cooperation for this mission of yours, whatever it is." Archer argued. "And don't think I've missed the fact that you haven't explained that yet."

"I don't need their cooperation at all. _You _do." Granger shrugged. "An outsider comes in, jabs at all the weak spots, everyone rallies together…and they develop a little awareness of all those weak spots. Every place an enemy, like me, can start jabbing. Like an old, Greek phalanx formation. Spears out, shields over the person standing _next _to you. That's what I need here."

Archer stared at her for a while.

He got it but he didn't like it. Didn't agree with it but couldn't do anything about it. So he offered the only complaint he really could.

"I don't appreciate your playing games with my crewman, Commander." He said. "And you can count on me expressing as much to your superiors."

Sally nodded. "Knock yourself out, Captain. In the meantime, you can escort me to guest quarters. I'm going to sleep for about sixteen hours…wasn't kidding about that part…it's going to take us a while to get to Vulcan, so you'll have plenty of time to patch up all the chinks in their armor. Before the people we're going after can get at them."

* * *

Trip was stomping down the corridor. She could feel the reverberations in the soles of her feet, feel the waves of anger and frustration he was projecting. And he was nearing Sickbay, approaching the door. Nearing the point where Elizabeth would soon be inundated by his aggression.

She rushed to catch up. Finding herself irritated that he'd suddenly become a threat to her daughter that she was forced to pursue and interdict. That she was relegated once again to _handling _this man. It was an aspect of their bond that she was beginning to develop significant resentment about.

She reached out anyway. No choice, other than allowing her daughter to suffer for her convenience. Still unsure if it would work, attempting desperately to send _some _measure of solace his way before he breached the perimeter, if only to minimize…

But he stopped. Abruptly coming to a halt at the hatch to Sickbay. Steeling himself suddenly, tamping his emotions down into a cold, compact resolve. With surprising ease, in fact. A firm, focused intent to…protect?…their daughter, she had to assume. Protect aggressively.

And even that pushed further down, just beyond her awareness. To where he'd obviously somehow sensed it was no longer a threat to Elizabeth.

He entered Sickbay ahead of her then, lacking any concern that she could perceive. Visually or psychically.

Leaving her stunned in the corridor behind him.

That he'd been able to do that at all. She'd rarely seen him exercise such control and couldn't recall ever having experienced it firsthand in that fashion. And his apparent ability to hide _anything _from their bond, or Elizabeth's, in the first place…

She realized then why she'd been unable to read him before, during their last conversation. He _had _blocked her out. Something she would have…_had_, actually…assumed impossible for him. He was Human, with no experience or training involving psychic contact of any sort.

Moving cautiously now, suddenly unsure of herself, she followed.

He was there, ahead of her. Elizabeth in his arms already, safe and secure with him. Calm and content. Despite everything he'd been feeling only a moment before. Despite any intervention on her part.

She was angry at that, she recognized. Angry that all the times she'd intervened before, to stave off his emotional outbursts...that it had been unnecessary. Angry that she'd been led to a place where she felt it her duty to do so. He'd been capable of that himself.

Of course. He was Human, after all. Far more capable than she, in his way.

And she was angry that she _wasn't _necessary. That her intervention _wasn't _required. That her mate and her daughter could be at peace together. There, across the room. Without her.

He noticed her then. And she struggled at first to control herself. To hide the sense of betrayal and resentment she must be expressing…

But, no.

No. Enough of this. She suddenly _wanted _him to know what she was..._feeling_.

She approached then, controlling her emotions enough that they did not disturb Elizabeth unnecessarily. But she glared at him as she came closer. And he frowned at her as she did so.

"What?" He said, finally.

"You are blocking me." She accused. "Preventing your stronger emotions from projecting through our bond."

Trip frowned more deeply then. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"You are blocking them from Elizabeth as well." She said.

He repeated himself then, emphasizing. "I _thought_ that's what you _wanted_."

As if she were stupid. Unable to follow the conversation.

"It is." She acknowledged. "But you are more capable than you've let on."

He sighed, frustrated with her already. "I'm Human. We're not completely incapable of controlling ourselves, T'Pol."

"Something you rarely exercise." She said. "And I am well aware that you are Human."

He leapt at that. "And what's that supposed to mean? That's the second time you've said that."

T'Pol started to answer…but reconsidered.

It didn't quite apply as she'd originally intended, it would seem.

"It was supposed to imply that you fail consistently at controlling your behavior." She admitted. "Which you do. But I am beginning to recognize that is not a Human trait, specifically."

His eyes narrowed at that. "Meaning it's a trait of _mine_, then."

"Yes." She said. "And one you will have to start exercising control over more diligently."

His anger flared then. Obviously resentful that the situation had yet again required some concession from him.

Elizabeth stirred then, whimpering. Objecting to the disturbance.

She glanced at the child in his arms, raising an eyebrow at him then. Case in point.

Trip closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. Expelling his frustration with her, with the situation…with everything. She was tempted to try again to send soothing through the bond…she still wanted to know if she could…but she resisted, waiting to see what he would do instead.

And he was calm again. Just that easily.

Still frustrated. Still resentful. But suppressing it. Examining its roots and reassessing whether any of it was actually useful to the situation. Contemplating his emotional reactions…_rationally_.

She took advantage of the moment.

"I realize our bond…with one another and with Elizabeth…requires significant adjustment." She said, carefully. "And I realize you blame me for this. But our bond would not have formed without the strong desire from _both _of us evoking it. We are _both _responsible. Continuing to blame me…your resentment…is not helpful, Trip."

From his soft sigh, she could see he understood that much. Which was a start, at least.

"I am trying…I _will _try…to help you." She said. "It is unfortunate you cannot do the same. I am also finding this adjustment very difficult. I am beginning to see many aspects of our relationship that are not healthy…"

"What do you need from me?" He asked.

Throwing her completely off balance.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"You said I wasn't helping you." He pointed out. "So, okay. What do you need?"

"I…" She began. But…

…she had no idea.

"I…do not know." She admitted, frowning.

Then closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly.

"You are…changing too quickly." She said. "I don't know what you are thinking…"

He'd gone from bitter and resentful to conciliatory and concerned. _Instantly_. She couldn't keep up.

"Okay, slow down." He said, soothingly. To her immediate frustration.

_Her _slow down?

"You are the one who is chaotic…" She accused.

"Yeah, okay." He interrupted. "So let's slow down here."

She sighed sharply then. Her controls were not up to this task at all.

Her mate was infuriating.

"Look." He said. "I'm Human. I can change direction easy enough when I need to…"

"And that is confusing." She said, bitterly. "And it is something you do not utilize properly. Where it would be most beneficial."

"Like where?" He asked.

"Like…" she said.

Like he had at the doorway, before he entered the room. Like he could have, should have done when he'd overreacted and threatened Phlox. Like many times other times before, when his emotionality had interfered with their relationship…

"Like any instance where a rational reaction would be more beneficial than an emotional one." She insisted.

"Well, that's _vague_." He frowned. "And I don't even know if I _can _'react rationally'. Maybe that's a Vulcan thing but Humans don't 'react' rationally, T'Pol. Maybe _act _but not _react_."

"You did." She insisted. "When you entered Sickbay. You realized you were emotional, to the point that it would disturb Elizabeth. And you suppressed your emotion."

"That wasn't a rational _reaction_, T'Pol." He argued. "That was rational _decision_…"

"An irrelevant point!" She snapped.

And Elizabeth stirred again, whimpering.

T'Pol closed her eyes again, grief and despair washing over her.

This was impossible. She could not communicate with him. She couldn't even articulate what she required of him…and even if she could, he was not capable of comprehending it.

And even all of this, only regarding this one small concern. This one simple thing. Never mind all the complex issues and obstacles that stood between them…

Why was she even bothering? There was no hope for them. Romeo and Juliet…he had no _idea _how apt that analogy had been…

Relief seeped into her awareness…

Carefully, subtly…running cool across her _katra_…drawing at the very edges of her despair…

Something, somewhere…some part of her taking the opportunity to suggest not _all _was lost…there was still _some _hope…if not for their bond ever being healthy and productive, then at least…

Maybe…maybe it wasn't _entirely _impossible...maybe they could still…

But…no…

That was not _her_.

Her eyes snapped open. Snapped wide.

_It was him._

"Damn." Trip mused. "That worked?"

She gaped openly then, completely astounded.

"Huh." He grinned. "I thought that was you before. Didn't think I could do it. That's really somethin'."

She felt…woozy, she realized. _Vaguely _realized, somewhere out on the periphery of her consciousness.

The majority of her awareness was wholly swept up with trying to make sense of what he'd just done…what _Trip _had just done…

He'd touched her. _Comforted _her. Through their bond...as her _mate_...

But her blood pressure had dropped alarmingly. Her vision had grown faint, ethereal. She felt weak…dizzy…

"Whoa." Trip said, concerned. "You okay?"

"I think I am going to faint." She observed, curiously. "I have never fainted befo…"

Fade to black.


	15. Chapter 15

**D'Rianov Compound**

**I'Ramnua City, Romulus**

Kh'ev waited at the wall, overlooking the city. As he had been told to.

The guards had casually accepted him when they'd let him through the gate. The sentries likewise as he'd made his way across the grounds to the garden. The men in the garden even, including those still unseen in the shadows. All had honored him as he passed, offering no challenging and saying nothing at all. From the corner of his eye he'd even seen a few bow their heads. Out of sight, of course, expecting no return acknowledgment.

It was a powerful moment after all, Kh'ev knew. For a D'kaleh to turn against his master…that was a rare thing. Usually followed by the death of the one who'd done so, a glorious act of self-sacrifice in the service of the Empire. Truly, there was no greater death a D'kaleh could aspire to. Greater even than to die in the _service _of one's master. There were songs still sung today, and Kh'ev knew them all by heart, of D'kaleh to great men of the past that had served the Empire…by killing them and dying gloriously themselves soon after.

Necessary, of course. Such a D'kaleh, however self-sacrificing, however loyal to the Empire, however noble and glorious their acts, couldn't hope to find further employment after such a thing. Unless that offer had been secured in advance, in _payment _for betraying one's master. Not quite as noble, honorable or glorious then…unless the master behind the whole thing was one's _own _master, naturally.

Which was exactly what most of these men were waiting to see. Had Kh'ev murdered Senator D'mek and D'sher in the service of the Empire? Or had he done this for _their _master, Senator D'Rianov? Both would earn him their awe and honor. For different reasons each but nevertheless.

And, of course, if he'd done what he had for the Empire, then he'd come here seeking an honorable death. None of them wanted to miss _that_.

Either would have been fine with Kh'ev. And, truth be told, he did in a way prefer to meet his end here. That noble, glorious death that might well elude him if he missed the opportunity to seize it now.

If not for his daughter, that is. That still remained the one thing in his life…his _personal _life…that required some closure before he died. If not for that, then he could welcome his death very comfortably here. He might even be tempted to seek it out. Better than the death that would stalk him for the rest of his life now. At the hands of the men he'd once commanded, who had since discovered he'd led them to their master's death.

As he heard and identified the sound of D'Rianov moving through the garden below him, flanked by two other men, Kh'ev surrendered to fate. Let whatever end awaited him come to pass. He would accept it.

Senator D'Rianov moved up the long stair, strolling casually and comfortably to the wall alongside Kh'ev. A few feet away, of course. With his bodyguards staying _behind _Kh'ev. Which didn't necessarily indicate his intentions, really. The man would be a little foolish not to be concerned the D'kaleh had come to kill _him_.

He had just killed two other Senators, after all. It wouldn't be wise to ignore that.

D'Rianov waited a moment, taking in the view, before speaking. Giving everyone time to ready themselves for whatever would come next.

"Kh'ev D'nhaih." He said, "My guards are prepared to offer you an honorable end here today, in this place. And I think as a last look, it is a good one. But if there is something more you would desire, I will hear you."

Kh'ev laughed aloud, not bothering to hide it. D'Rianov knew the minds of men too well. Certainly he understood _him _far too well, anyway.

D'Rianov looked at him with amusement then. So Kh'ev answered freely.

"I would indeed prefer that end to any other." Kh'ev admitted, smiling. "To be honored by men, to serve as an example to all the D'kaleh to come. But you know there is something I must do before then. And so I must, with deepest regret, decline your generous offer, Senator. For today, at least. I must simply hope another such opportunity comes along."

D'Rianov nodded. "If there is to be any possibility of that, you will require another master. Unless you intend to become a mercenary. A despicable thing that I could not imagine of _you_, Kh'ev."

Kh'ev shook his head. "You honor me, Senator. And yes, I would rather die than that."

"Then you will serve me." D'Rianov announced. "The D'kaleh that slew Praetor Talon served the new Praetor for life and achieved many great things before their end. I assume you will do the same for me."

Hardly unexpected. Kh'ev nodded, then. "I will dedicate myself to that end, Senator."

"Then you will do so." D'Rianov said, tucking his hand into his sash. Putting the matter beyond dispute. "I promised you that I would grant your request, Kh'ev. You know already that I am aware of what that is, I knew it before you did. So I won't make you ask."

D'Rianov turned away then, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's come down from the wall first, though. After the events of last night, there are probably a hundred lip readers with telescopes down there. It is good they have witnessed our conversation so far but this is not for them to know."

Kh'ev followed, both relieved and disappointed that the moment had passed. He would serve Senator D'Rianov now and there would be no other master. But he'd earned one personal indulgence and he was confident D'Rianov would be true to his word. So that was enough.

As they reached the foot of the stair, the Senator's bodyguards stayed behind. Kh'ev was humbled a bit at the gesture but D'Rianov spoke immediately, not caring to emphasize the matter.

"The cell you established on Vulcan continues to thrive, Kh'ev." The Senator said. "And the Vulcan mind breaker that D'mek employed on Earth is being moved there until he is needed again. You will kill him before he returns to Earth and see that the cell itself is eliminated."

Ah, the old D'Rianov was back. Straight to the point, no nonsense.

"You will arrive on Vulcan in two weeks." D'Rianov said. "I look forward to the report of your success. And to meeting your daughter."

Two weeks? That seemed…unlikely. And as for his daughter, it was a good time to confirm D'Rianov's assumptions there. Or seem to, anyway.

"Concerning my daughter, Senator…" Kh'ev began.

"There is no concern." D'Rianov assured. "She will have a place in my house. Whatever must be done to see to her comfort will be done."

Kh'ev was not at all convinced, of course. He knew very well how that would end. Perhaps D'Rianov believed he could secure his loyalty with such promises…but he was certain he would eventually be forced to kill _this _Senator as well.

T'Pol had been raised on Vulcan, as a Vulcan. Loyal to Vulcan, despite what their High Command might say on that score. Even her loyalty to Starfleet was clearly in the interests of Vulcan. She would find no peace here. Nor would any find peace with her. She would be a threat to the Empire, her every thought turned to that end, were she allowed to live freely here. Even if only within the confines of this compound.

T'Pol's death awaited her on Romulus, on Senator D'Rianov's order. An accident, surely. A clever one, beyond any hint of malice. It had already been planned, put in place, the date set. So his daughter would not be returning with him. He would allow D'Rianov to assume that was his goal for now but he would return alone, grieving that he'd been unable to convince to her come with him.

As they approached another man, waiting in the middle of the garden ahead, D'Rianov spoke again.

"This is M'trahd, my chief agent." He said, "He will brief you. Good hunting, Kh'ev."

And that was the end of the matter. D'Rianov strolled away, off to see to who knows what affair next awaited him. So Kh'ev turned his attention to his new boss. The man who held the same position with D'Rianov that he himself had with Senator D'sher only yesterday.

"Two weeks?" Kh'ev asked, doubtfully.

The man smiled slightly. "Two and three days, actually. It will not be a comfortable journey, D'kaleh. You will change ships several times and identities just as often. One of the vessels is even Orion."

Kh'ev grunted. _Orions_.

M'trahd's chuckled then. "Not a very nice welcome to our house, I know. And when you return I suspect you will have little time to spend with your daughter. We're forced to restructure everything between here and Vulcan space. D'mek and D'sher made a terrible mess of the whole thing."

"But this mission is critical." He assured, "So I can promise you something of a respite when you are done with it all. Look forward to that, D'kaleh. D'Rianov rewards those that serve him well, I promise you."

At that, M'trahd grasped his shoulder, already welcoming him as one of his own. "Come. I'll give you the details."

* * *

**NX-01 Enterprise**

**En route to Vulcan**

In the port Guest Quarters on Deck G, Sally Granger sat on the bed reading through the collected intelligence she'd gathered. The encrypted action reports of the Enterprise, detailed personnel files, the source material from Lieutenant Reed's investigation, Starfleet Intel files on every other related subject she could think of…

All of it. Everything. Jumping from document to document. Reading closely here, skimming through there. Assess and address. Collect and collate. _Everything _is relevant.

The door chimed but she barely noticed. It _wasn't _relevant. Didn't quite pierce the data cloud. She was in the _zone _here…

It chimed again.

Ignore it and it'll go away…the _Vahklas…_ah, _that's _where she contracted pa'nar syndrome…a little disillusioned after P'Jem…that's why Phlox _really _recommended the…

The door chimed again.

And then again just a moment later…

Well, fine. Dammit.

"Come in!" She called out, aggravated.

Lieutenant Reed entered the room. Which was a little surprising. She had expected him two days ago and since he'd chosen to avoid her up to now, she'd assumed this conversation wasn't going to happen after all.

"Commander." He nodded, looking grim.

_Yup, here we go._

"Have a seat." She said, nodding at the empty chair nearby. She tossed the PADD in hand atop the others, piled up on the bed beside her.

He was standing at ease though, hands tucked at his back. Like he'd come give a report he wasn't at all happy about.

"I'd rather stand, thank you." He said.

"Tough." She said, firmly. "Sit."

_Yeah, we're not having any of that, Lieutenant._

So Malcolm sat, stiffly, while she hiked up a knee to rest one arm on.

"You're just in time." She said. "I'd have come looking for you in a bit."

Wasn't really true, of course. She'd been zoning pretty hard. Probably wouldn't have roused out of it for hours. But better to cut him off before he started in on that speech he'd obviously prepared.

"I've been giving your report on Masaro a second go over." She said, grabbing up one of the PADDs beside her. "Something troubling there…"

That got his attention, knocking his little speech right out of mind. _'Something troubling'_ translated as _'danger to the Enterprise' _in his mind, she knew. Not to mention the suggestion that he'd missed something.

"We'll get to that in a minute, though." She said. "First, Romulans…"

And that was that. Speech deflected and now he's off balance as well.

"I'm seeing two major incidents in your past reports here involving them." She said, reading from the PADD, "So let's talk about that."

With a quick glance, she spotted the look on his face.

"I'm not Harris, Malcolm." She said, smiling tightly. "I won't assume you're too stupid to put the pieces together. You already had these guys in mind."

She waited. While he got his head pointed in the right direction.

Which he did. Pretty quickly, actually.

"Yes, I suppose." Malcolm admitted. "My first thought was the Orion syndicate, of course, but…"

"But they're not that sophisticated." She finished.

He shrugged, nodding.

"And of course Harris has either already confirmed it for you or strongly hinted as much." Granger guessed. "When he sent you here."

She waited.

After a moment, Malcolm smirked. "You're very clever."

That _wasn't _meant as a compliment, of course.

"Not really." She shrugged. "I've just worked with people like him long enough. They're fairly predictable after a while."

She turned her attention to the PADD, scrolling through to the part she wanted. "So, Harris has you watching me. He's hasn't told you why I'm here but expects you to see to it that I complete my mission somehow anyway. Which means he doesn't trust me and therefore you can't either. Not that you would if he _did _trust me…but you're here to warn me off your crew. You don't want your people involved in any of this."

"Let's skip all that then." She said. "I don't work for Harris, first of all. At least, not directly. And, yes, we are dealing with some kind of Romulan influence here. But for all intents and purposes we can ignore that and focus on the 'Vulcan cult' thing that I suggested before. That's close enough and as deep as you probably want your crew looking anyway. And, believe it or not, I don't want them involved either."

"Now." She said. "Your question then becomes…"

"What is your mission, exactly?" Malcolm supplied.

"Right." She nodded, "And the answer is 'clean up'. Your agent Harris seems to have made a deal with a certain smuggler group on Vulcan, turning some blind eyes in exchange for their surveillance on one of the infiltration cells operating there. Getting agents in place on Vulcan is pretty tough, it turns out. But those people aren't talking anymore. Which means they're dead. So we're going to clean that up, remove any intel that might lead back to us."

"Vulcan authorities must have already…" Malcolm began, frowning.

"Not talking about wet-work, Lieutenant." She assured. "My apologies for giving that impression. Just checking a couple of dead-drops before someone stumbles across them. And pick up everything the Vulcan authorities missed at the safe house."

Malcolm was dubious. "And that's all?

"No, we're going to relocate and tag that cell while we're at it." She said, "But we're not going to ghost the place or knock on the front door, if that's what you're worried about. We're turning them over the Vulcan Ministry of Security once we've found them, since getting our own eyes on the ground just doesn't seem doable."

"And no Enterprise crewmen will be involved?" Malcolm asked, pointedly.

"Just you." She assured.

He nodded then, satisfied.

"And Ensign Sato." She added.

Malcolm did _not _like that…but before he could object…

"I need her." She said.

"For what?" Malcolm demanded.

"To confirm something." She said. "And that's all you need to know."

"I'll need to know more than that, Commander." He insisted.

"Nope. Not your problem." She said. "_This_, however, _is_…"

She referred to the PADD in her hand then.

"Your report on Masaro and related investigations into Terra Prime influences on the Enterprise." She said. "Concluding no further direct influence here. Which, unfortunately, is wrong."

"What do you mean?" He asked. "Wrong, how?"

"I'm guessing you haven't broken into too many people's personal logs, journals, diaries and various things of that sort so far in the pursuit of your duties." She said. "And you don't keep up with the practice yourself, either. Correct?"

Malcolm's eyes narrowed but he didn't offer a reply.

"Likewise Lieutenant Foster." She added. "Neither of you are the sort to find something like that very comfortable anyway, even if you did. Investigate other people's private writings, I mean. Or…keep them yourself, actually, come to think of it. But that's why you missed the obvious here. Masaro logs were hacked. Pretty darned well, admittedly, since there's no sign anywhere that it happened. Nevertheless, the fact that they were altered is pretty obvious."

"A personal journal of any sort is done with the idea in mind that someone else will read it, sooner or later." She explained. "Even if you have no intention of that ever happening, that awareness is there. It's what makes writing in a journal, diary, log or whatever useful in the first place. It forces you to approach your own thoughts from an alternate perspective. And several places in Masaro's logs lack that completely, while several others were written much too directly toward the presumed reader. Nothing specific, of course, but it establishes that someone tampered with Masaro's logs, to my mind."

"And yet no _evidence _of the logs being hacked." Malcolm pointed out. "Ensign Sato ran the check herself…"

"Which is why you don't want to accept otherwise." Sally said. "I get it. Fact remains…they _were _hacked. If it makes you feel better, if you'd had Sato look at the actual logs rather than tracing software she'd have noticed this herself."

"And what is your proof?" Malcolm demanded.

"Masaro's single reference to Ensign Marcel." She shrugged. "He has a cousin Marcel on Earth, I know. But he has no ties to Terra Prime that we've uncovered and interviews by S.I. since your report came down turn up very little xenophobia with him either. Never mind that he's a high school kid. So he couldn't hide it from us if he tried and Masaro wouldn't be referencing him like this anyway. So that leaves _Ensign _Marcel."

"Nothing to suggest Ensign Marcel was xenophobic at all." She continued. "Which he could have simply hidden very well, of course. Except if he were someone who's great wisdom Masaro would turn to the way he _seemed _to have, then we'd be seeing his name pop up more than once in his logs. Not to mention some reference to his death in February of '54, which isn't so much as mentioned."

"So, what we're looking at is the name 'Marcel' replacing someone _else's _name." She said. "Whoever did the hack in the first place, probably. Replaced because they made a spur of the moment decision to toss 'Marcel' out there, to throw anyone who might come along off track. Instead of just deleting the entry completely as she did in most other cases. In a bit of a hurry, after all, since Masaro just burned his brains out in the corridor a couple of hours before."

"You said 'she'." Malcolm noted.

"Yes, I did." She admitted. "Someone with access to Masaro's quarters, which would be the only way to hack his logs without leaving the kind of trace Sato could spot. Maybe even with his access code, both to his quarters _and _his console. Someone who knew Masaro well enough to know he had a cousin 'Marcel' on Earth that he rarely mentioned. That all says 'girlfriend' to me."

"Masaro wasn't involved with anyone, Commander." Malcolm denied.

"From what I've seen _everyone _on this ship is involved with _someone_, Lieutenant." She insisted. "Even if they don't always know it."

Malcolm hadn't anything to say to that. As she suspected. No way he'd voluntarily opening up _that _topic for discussion.

"So, Lieutenant." She said. "Who's Ensign Masaro's bestest gal pal…who's name _isn't _mentioned anywhere in these logs?"

Malcolm knew before she'd finished asking…

"Crewman Rossi." He said, bitterly.

"The very crewman that's volunteered twice now to baby-sit little Elizabeth?" She said, flatly. "Well, I'm so very shocked."

Malcolm was on his feet already, though…

"Nope." She snapped, "Sit."

Malcolm looked surprised. And confused. And ready to ignore her and charge down the corridors looking for Crewman Rossi anyway.

"She's hacking personal logs to cover her tracks only hours after Masaro's death." Sally said, "And wiggled her way into baby Elizabeth's care at the first opportunity. This isn't just some xenophobic crewman. This is a Terra Prime _agent_. Maybe not a pro but worth taking seriously, Lieutenant. So let's slow down a step."

"She could be watching the child right now, Commander." Malcolm pointed out irritably.

"Or she could be busy with that _other _thing." Sally said. "The thing she was put on this ship to do in the first place. Because baby Elizabeth isn't it."

"And how do you know that?" He asked.

"There's no way that Terra Prime could have expected the baby would end up on the Enterprise, much less for so long." She pointed out. "That can't have been her assignment because there's no predicting it."

"But she was aware of Paxton's plans." Malcolm insisted. "Just as Masaro was. So whatever she's here to do must have been intended to coincide with Paxton's attack on Earth. It must have been delayed somehow due to Masaro's sabotage, his suicide and the baby coming on board. And she's had time now to work around that…"

"I don't think that's likely, Lieutenant." She argued. "Moles don't usually deviate _that _much from the op. If she hasn't acted already then she won't for some time."

"Not a chance I'm prepared to take, Commander." Malcolm said, already turning toward for the hatch.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant." Sally said, much more sharply this time. "I don't think I'm making myself clear. I need this agent alive and that means taking her down in a particular way. Every other lead I've had has _died_. That will _not _be the case _here_."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't wait." Malcolm said.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm _ordering _you to." Sally snapped.

Malcolm hesitated for a moment…

"A _direct order_, Lieutenant." She warned.

But that was it. He was through the hatch and gone before she could properly process the fact that...

...he'd actually disobeyed a direct order.

Which should have been impossible for him.


	16. Chapter 16

_So...we're gonna try to pick this one back up again. It's been a while since I left it and I've kinda lost the groove with this one...but we'll see how it goes._

_- Mary_

* * *

T'Pol woke in the medical bed. And realized immediately where she was, who was there with her and what incredibly embarrassing circumstance had brought her to this. It took her a couple of seconds to get her eyes to focus as well, which granted her enough time to consider the inappropriateness of _that _emotional response.

That she'd fainted in the first place was significant enough. To allow herself to entertain embarrassment over it was all the more unacceptable. But she couldn't help it. Couldn't suppress it. Couldn't resist the impulse to sink and flounder in humiliation. Even if Trip was the only one there to witness any of it.

And ironic further still that the blood flow to her head had _increased _now, as it seemed she'd begun to blush slightly. Her ears even burned a little.

"Hey. How you feeling?"

Feeling. An appropriate question, wasn't it? She'd done little more than _feel _for…how long now? Weeks? _Months?_

"I feel foolish." She said, uncomfortably. Staring up at the ceiling.

And though she hadn't considered her answer at all before she spoke, it was entirely accurate. So she didn't bother to chide herself for speaking without thinking.

"Never seen you faint before, T'Pol."

His tone was serious, not humored as she would have expected. Whether because he continued to distance himself from her or because he realized the true significance of the incident, she wasn't sure. So she looked over at him, despite having little hope of judging his thoughts from a mere look.

Their bond offered nothing, of course. Because he was blocking her yet again. And quite well at that. He had gotten very good at that, very quickly.

He sat next to her bed, his arms resting on the side rails, looking over at her. Calm, serious, perhaps expressing some small measure of appropriate concern and…that was all. She could discern nothing else at all.

"What happened?" Trip asked.

"Vasovagal syncope." She said. "Decreased blood flow to the brain, resulting in unconsciousness…"

"Yeah, I _know that_, T'Pol." He frowned.

She hesitated. "You have never seen it because it is very rare in Vulcans."

"I guess I kind of figured that, too." He said. "So what's going on with you?"

She stared back at the ceiling again, considering how best to answer him.

"I don't know, Trip." She said. "Such an overt physical response to internal emotional disturbance is a very grave indicator."

He stiffened then. But through their bond…still nothing. Perhaps a small, vague spike of…_something_, but it was gone before she could even be certain it was there.

"Indicator of what?" He asked.

"On Vulcan, it would be considered grounds for involuntary psychiatric evaluation. Possibly commitment to a monitored detention facility. Once it became obvious it was not a physical condition that prompted it."

They were quiet for a time. And she found it ironic how utterly she failed to find comfort in his presence at the moment. Ironic in that she had, up to now, _preferred _the distance. Yet, judging from what she'd experienced before she'd…_fainted_…he actually seemed to have the ability to comfort her in the way she would otherwise have preferred…

"T'Pol…"

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Trip." She said. And she decided not to care at the sadness she'd exhibited in that statement, either. She watched as he struggled for a moment, trying to find words for whatever he wished to say. And even their bond seemed to struggle.

He sighed. "I guess it didn't really get through to me until I saw you hit the deck a minute ago."

She waited, wondering what he meant by that.

"T'Pol…I've been so wrapped up in everything that…I didn't realize." He said. "I mean, you've been driving me kinda crazy. And then all _this_. Suddenly we have a baby and…I guess I just didn't realize. Not until you _fainted_…"

"What do you mean?"

He frowned. "T'Pol…the way you freaked out before and did that neck pinch thing on me. What happened just now…and I'm not even sure what about that got you so upset. And the…argument we had before…T'Pol…you're _all over the place _these last few days."

That angered her for some reason. And she wasn't sure what she was about to say, even as she spoke…

"If, perhaps, my _adun _were able to provide _some measure of support_…" She said.

Which was completely unacceptable. So she shut her eyes. And her mouth. And struggled for composure.

While Trip watched her.

"That's what I'm talking about, T'Pol." He said, grimly.

She struggled for peace again. Finding it after a moment. Trying to hold onto it…

"What's _adun _mean? I'm guessing it's not very complimentary."

No.

Had she really _called _him that?

What was it within her that was so determined to undermine and destroy _everything in her life?_

"It means…husband." She said.

He was quiet. And _now _she could feel him somewhat through their bond. And, of course, his emotions were so vague and jumbled that she was unable to identify or react to them appropriately. Not that she likely would have had any idea what reaction would be appropriate anyway.

"So…you _were _asking for a divorce before." He said, snorting.

Humor? Well, that wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"Kinda would have been nice to know we were married, T'Pol." He said. "That's something you could have mentioned."

And now he was bitter?

"It should not have been necessary to point it out."

"Oh, really?" He said. "Right. Because that was pretty obvious, I guess?"

"Indeed, it was." She said, a little bitter herself.

Trip sighed, running one hand over his face.

"Well, maybe to a Vulcan." He said resigned.

And now he was _calm _again?

"Although I guess I should have realized at some point. It just…I never really had a reason to... But, yeah, you sure _act _like we're married…well, except for maybe one or two little things that we oughta talk…"

"Trip…I can't have this discussion with you right now." She said. "Please…"

"Okay, just forget it. We'll worry about all that later. What's going on with _you_?"

Dismissing the matter, then embracing concern for her again. More quickly than she could even _recognize _the change…

She squeezed her eyes shut again. "Trip…you are too _chaotic_…"

"I don't _feel _chaotic."

"You are. I am unable to…adjust…" She stuttered.

"T'Pol, I think maybe _you're _the one who's too chaotic here."

She opened her eyes, staring at him. Was he _serious_?

"Yeah, I'm serious." He said, causing her blink a bit at that.

_Had he…?_

"Maybe it's been a little crazy between us recently but that's mostly due to you haring out every five minutes."

"I think I have had sufficient cause…" She argued, frowning back at him.

"Of course you would. That kinda goes along with it."

"Trip, I don't want to _argue _with you right now…"

"Then don't." He said, rising. "I'm getting Phlox over here."

"I don't want…"

"There something _wrong _with you, T'Pol!" He insisted.

And…

…he was right. Of course.

There was something very wrong with her.

She was actually a little relieved at the shock that came with that realization. Because it caused her to stop _feeling _for a moment. So she embraced it, allowed herself to be shocked. And then to sink into numbness as a result, trying very hard to experience nothing else that might bring her out of it.

She didn't want to _feel _anymore. Just for a minute, if that were possible. If whatever random variables in the universe that had conspired to consign her to this condition would allow it.

She watched as Trip approached Phlox and Crewman Rossi across the room, where they examined Elizabeth. Watched Trip whisper something to him, just low enough that she couldn't overhear. Which was mildly amusing, as he didn't seem to realize he'd utilized the bond in that manner.

And, so, now he used their bond yet again. This time without even consciously realizing it. It would have been preferable if he'd used it in that manner for something other than keeping her from overhearing what he was saying about her, of course. But it was mildly amusing nevertheless.

So when Phlox looked over, then left Elizabeth with the Crewman to accompany him back to her, she considered the matter objectively. As much as she was able. But she arrived quickly at the logical conclusion. It wasn't as if it weren't perfectly obvious now.

"Commander," Phlox smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"I am unusually emotional." She said. And never mind that there even _was _such a thing as 'unusual' emotionality for her now. "I believe I may require a psychiatric evaluation. And to be relieved of duty due to mental incapacitation."

"T'Pol…" Trip said, a little shocked himself.

But Phlox considered the matter seriously. And after a moment…

"Commander…perhaps I should have noticed…" He said, concerned. "Let me examine you for a moment."

Phlox reached behind him, on the tray nearby, for the medical scanner. And T'Pol noted Crewman Rossi approaching with Elizabeth. Something she would otherwise have welcomed but…now causing her to wonder if her mental state could in any way prove harmful to her child…

Which only prompted a crushing wave of despair and self-loathing to descend. So she had to busy herself dealing entirely with that while Phlox scanned her.

She was even tempted to…_cry_…

Because she was clearly losing her mind…

"Commander…" Phlox said, somewhat shocked. And over his shoulder she could see Elizabeth looked at her with curiosity, from Crewman Rossi's shoulder, making her wonder idly if _she _was shocked. Everyone else seemed to be. Which only forced her to suppress hysterical humor then as well.

"T'Pol, what have you done?" Phlox said. And he was indeed shocked. Perhaps horrified as well.

T'Pol blinked, trying to focus again. What was…?

"Your system is…I'm detecting high concentrations of Trellium." Phlox said, staring in horror. "I thought…Commander, how could you do this again?"

High concentrations of what?

"What…what are you talking about?"

"These readings are in excess of anything I've seen before." Phlox said, already busy scanning her again. "I don't know how you're able to function at all…"

"What do you mean 'Trellium'?" Trip asked. "And _what _did she do again?"

Panic struck.

Because she finally understood what he'd said.

"Phlox, I haven't…" She insisted desperately. "I haven't _used _Trellium! Not since…!"

"Wait!" Trip demanded. "Used it for what? What are you two talking about? We haven't had Trellium on board this ship in months."

T'Pol's eyes darted between them, panicked. That wasn't possible! That was _entirely impossible!_

"Commander Tucker." Phlox said, firmly. "I'm afraid I must…"

"Well, there's still some in cargo bay, sir." Rossi said. "Just a couple of crates, but they're sealed tight in the biohazard locker."

"What the hell have you been doing down there?" Trip demanded angrily, turning to T'Pol.

Who lay there, with her eyes closed now. Struggling.

"Doctor, please…" T'Pol whispered, her fingers tangled into the foam of the medical bed. Obviously, to Phlox's perceptions, barely controlling herself.

"Everyone stop!" Phlox said, loudly. Bringing most everyone's reactions somewhat under control for a moment. Focusing on him in surprise.

"Now, Crewman Rossi," He said. "Please take Elizabeth to the research room for a moment. Commander Tucker, you may accompany her if you wish. But I must insist everyone leave, while I consult with Commander T'Pol."

"About what?" Trip glared.

"I'm afraid that's a confidential matter between…"

"Well, we're bonded." Trip said. "Which makes me her husband, from what I gather. So I'm not going anywhere."

_Everyone _snapped their heads in his direction. Even Elizabeth, though she likely simply wondered what everyone else had jerked around to look at.

After a moment of silence, Elizabeth began to babble. Because that got boring pretty quick.

"Babababa." She said, earnestly.

So Trip snorted slightly. And smiled a little.

"Rossi, would you mind…?" He suggested, nodding toward the research room.

"Of course, Commander." She said, a troubled nod to express she understood the situation. Sort of. But she turned to leave.

"Thanks." He nodded, then looked back down at T'Pol.

"Okay, you calm down or I'm going to do that thing again." He warned. "Maybe you'll faint."

"Perhaps you should, Trip." She said, quietly.

Then her eyes widened, surprised that she'd said that, before she even thought it coherently.

He considered that for only a second, then nodded. "Okay."

And he was there, just like that. Before he'd even finished saying the word. Warm across and around her _katra_. Soothing, drawing away the excess and letting peace in again.

And she nearly cried with relief. But even that reaction dissolved soon after. She sighed audibly, though. And relaxed, despite herself.

"Okay. It's alright." He said, again, softly. Taking her hand in his, the first two fingers of their hands sliding across one another entirely of their own accord.

And she was completely calm. Almost instantly. Her mind and soul seeking their center again, both relieved at last that it was actually possible. So, as it was entirely logical to do so, she drew a deep breath, held it in peace…and released it, letting the residual anxiety out.

Then opened her eyes.

"That was surprisingly effective." She noted.

Trip snorted. "Yeah. It's weird. Like I've done it a thousand times before or something. Comes pretty naturally…is that the bond doing that?"

"Probably." She said. "Humans have no innate psychic abilities that I am aware of. I have much more experience with utilizing it in that fashion, regardless. I suspect our bond simply translates that experience to you in order to aid you. I recall that, among family members, there…"

"Excuse me!" Phlox interrupted, excited. "Bond? Are you the two of you _bonded_? A Vulcan _mating bond_?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at Phlox's reaction. "Apparently. I assumed you were aware, doctor."

"Not at all!" Phlox grinned. "Well, that's extraordinary! And that may offer quite a few avenues…"

"You're really gonna pretend you're surprised here, doc?" Trip said, smirking.

"What?" He said. "What do you mean?"

Trip and T'Pol exchanged a look. Had he really not known?

"Been bonded for a little while now, doc." Trip said. "And I had the idea that's what you were hoping for here."

"Well, naturally!" Phlox grinned. "But, to be honest, I'd nearly given up hope that it was possible. Certainly there was quite a remarkable amount of evidence…"

"Uh huh." Trip said, interrupting. Holding up one hand to stave off whatever tangent he was about to go off on. "Let's just skip all that and focus on T'Pol here."

"Oh, of course." Phlox said, frowning now. "But…well, I suppose…"

"It is quite alright, doctor." T'Pol assured. "As Trip has suggested, we are bonded. It would not be logical to conceal such matters from him any further."

"I see." Phlox said. "In that case, I'm forced to ask when you began using Trellium again. I had assumed you were well aware of the dangers…"

"I have not, doctor." She said.

"Hold on." Trip said. "Use Trellium for what? We've been out of the expanse for a while now."

Phlox sighed, turning to him. "To enhance her emotional controls. Allow more intense emotionality, without risk of dangerous excess."

"What? How?" Trip asked, confused. "That stuff just…wait…you mean _using _it? Like, exposing herself to it? On purpose?"

"Indeed." T'Pol said. "However, I progressed from simple exposure to injecting small amounts directly into my blood stream, once properly processed and the impurities removed…"

"_What the hell for?" _Trip exploded.

T'Pol arched an eyebrow his way, to encourage rational consideration, rather than the emotional reaction he currently displayed. Ironic as that might be, perhaps.

"It allowed me to experience emotionality in a controlled manner." She said. "More so than a Vulcan is normally capable of, without allowing my passions to express themselves with such intensity that it posed a danger."

Trip stared at her, shocked.

"What…like a Human or something?"

"Precisely, yes."

"_Why?" _He demanded.

"Because it allowed me to interact more effectively with the crew." She said. "And, though I only came to recognize it later, with you."

Trip stared. Then closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead.

"T'Pol." He said, carefully. "Maybe I don't understand here or something. But isn't that what the _damned bond is for_? I mean, that's just the impression I get but…right?"

She was surprised. That was indeed what the bond was for. But that he'd realized that already was interesting.

"It is." She said. "But I was unaware that we had bonded at that time. Perhaps we hadn't. I remain unsure precisely when the…"

"So you just…?" He seethed. "God, _poisoned _yourself? What the hell were you _thinking_?"

"Trip, calm yourself." She advised.

"Calm myse-? _Are you kidding me?"_

So she reached out. Back through the same connection that had already begun to falter. Reestablishing the path of peace and comfort that flowed there.

Trip let out a breath, calming down easily. She was rather surprised at first at just _how_ easily. But, then again, he was Human. His emotional range was only so broad, not at all comparable to a Vulcan.

"Okay. So let's think about this." He said. "The important thing here is T'Pol's health, so let's focus…"

Then turned to her in mild surprise.

_Mild _surprise.

"Hey. Are you…?"

"Of course." She said.

Trip considered her for a moment. Then…

"Huh. That really works, doesn't it?"

"Indeed, it does. I find it rather interesting what little effort it requires, for either of us. I suspect it has something to do with your Human nature."

"Yeah. That's really something." He observed. "I assume you mean that in a good way, right?"

"I believe you already know that I do."

"Okay. Good. So let's keep that up, because this conversation's getting me pretty upset."

"And I, as well." She agreed.

"Gotcha." He nodded. "So what's this about Trellium? You were using it…what, like a drug or something?"

Phlox smiled happily, observing and, in a thoroughly Denobulan way, participating in the exchange. It was very interesting and quite enjoyable. Already it was proving to be all that he'd hoped for.


	17. Chapter 17

"Babababa." Elizabeth said, seriously.

And reached for her face again, with both little hands. Touching, staring in that creepy way…a little jolt of _something_…

And back to slapping her cheeks, while she crowed about how interesting it was that her face made that 'smack' sound when she did so.

Rossi couldn't help but snort with humor anyway. It was creepy alright, and definitely some kind of weird Vulcan thing…still cute as hell somehow, though. Even if the little kid was beating her face.

She reached out with one finger to 'boop' Elizabeth's nose again. Not just because she just wanted to, but hoping it'd distract her for a minute from slapping her cheeks. They were starting to get a little sore. And it was the third time she'd done that little Vulcan brain jolt thing, too. She didn't want to think the kid might be doing some kind of brain damage or something but…let's get real here.

"Boop!" She said, tapping Elizabeth's nose. And she grinned when she said it, so Elizabeth grinned right back.

"Pfft!" Elizabeth exclaimed, grabbing her finger immediately, as it had been kind enough to come into range. And stuffing that finger in her mouth to gum at it a bit.

Rossi shook her head a little. It was…nuts.

She really didn't get it. Not the first clue. She assumed there had to have been some kind of master plan involved here but…she hadn't exactly been in the loop when it came to things like that. And whatever plan there might have been had probably died with Paxton anyway.

It didn't make any sense to her, though. This kid was…well, she was just plain cute. If you were going to make some kind of example of how Humans _shouldn't _be so intrinsically involved with aliens…or just to _remind _everyone that _they were aliens_…unknowable, untrustworthy and…dangerous…well, this just wasn't it. It just wasn't.

The kid was _adorable_.

Rossi smiled at Elizabeth when she looked back at her, gumming her finger already beginning to lose her total fascination. And the cute little booger smiled back, and hummed at her.

Yeah, she just wasn't any kind of example of how Humans shouldn't be involved with aliens. The opposite of that, if you wanted to get right down to it. And Rossi was a realist, after all.

Her own mission served that purpose far better. And she reflected again, perhaps a little bitterly, that it should have been left at that. In fact, if she were going to be of any use to the cause at all, considering her position here on the Enterprise, then Paxton should have waited! If she'd been allowed to _finish_…and they'd made their move _then_…maybe things would have been different.

But this baby. She should have never been created. Because it was nuts! It undermined _everything_!

What did they think was going to happen here? The news archives were going to write stories about this kid! She'd be all over the net! What kind of stories had Paxton thought they'd write? She'd be an overnight celebrity! People would _love _her!

What the hell had he been _thinking_?

Mostly, she supposed, she was just frustrated at how she'd been so stupidly wasted. She was a Crewman, on the Enterprise. The only Starfleet vessel with an active Vulcan command officer. The only one with an _alien _officer at all! She should have been the focal point of all Terra Prime's efforts. Her mission here should have set the example.

But she'd been wasted. All her efforts just…wasted. And, hell, if you wanted to get right down to it, her mission would probably end up undermining everything as well, when it got out. Which she was sure it would now. Just a matter of time.

T'Pol would eventually freak out, probably kill someone. Then Reed or Archer, both more likely, would track the Trellium back to her. Everyone would know that Terra Prime had driven the Vulcan Starfleet officer nuts. And while you might argue that it just served to prove how aliens couldn't be trusted…that all it took was a little harmless mineral dosed in a nasal suppressant a couple of times…that argument wouldn't work anymore. Not now. It'd be totally lost in…_this _cute little booger gumming someone's finger so adorably.

Because all anyone out there would see would be Terra Prime driving _this _cute little kid's mother crazy. The little celebrity that everyone would love and identify with.

Dammit. It was like Paxton had actually _tried _to make people hate and despise them. They were supposed to win people over, not drive themselves further out to the fringe.

Who the hell could it possible benefit for Terra Prime to become some shadowy, crazy threat out there that everyone was _afraid _of? They weren't supposed to be _terrorists_! But that's exactly what they'd become. Crazy, scary bad guys. Loonies, out on the fringe, who just wanted to poison people and blow things up. Make…alien hybrids for no sane reason, and then drive their mothers nuts just for kicks.

This was not what she'd signed up for. Not at all. This was nuts.

Too damned late to turn back now, though, wasn't it? The damage was done. T'Pol's brain was fried, even if they had finally picked up on the Trellium. It was just a matter of time before something happened, some major stressor…and she'd freak out. Do something…destructive. Or deadly. Kill someone, most likely. As strong as she was, it wouldn't take much. Just one punch to the head, if she were mad enough, which she would be…

Then all hell would break lose. And Reed would be knocking at her door, with half the security department…

So, yeah, she'd got herself in a hell of a pickle here. But she'd completed her mission anyway. Because maybe…whatever crazy things Paxton may have done to screw it all up…just maybe T'Pol freaking out and bashing someone's head in might get the point across.

Just maybe. And what the hell else could she hope for now?

"Babababa!" Elizabeth insisted.

So Rossi grinned back at her. Yeah, sorry, kid. Wasn't paying attention.

"Boop! Tagged your nose again!" Rossi grinned.

Elizabeth giggled. And drooled a bit.

She was just adorable. Too bad about her mom, though.

* * *

T'Pol was seated on the medical bed, Trip beside her, still holding her hand. Comfort and peace continued to flow between them…but it was only a matter of time before they would be forced to rely solely on the bond itself. They couldn't very well hold hands for the rest of their lives. Eventually the requisite emotional reactions would have to be dealt with. But perhaps this respite would aid in that endeavor then, being somewhat better prepared for them.

"So this isn't exactly an addiction." Trip asked, seriously. "No actual cravings or compulsion of any sort."

"No." T'Pol said. "Though there was a time when I experienced…desperation. But this was the result of being entirely unprepared for the failure of my normal emotional controls when I was no longer under the effects of Trellium."

"The result of extended Trellium use damaging the neural pathways associated with Vulcan emotional disciplines." Trip suggested.

T'Pol arched an eyebrow in appreciation. He had expressed himself quite…accurately. Much more precisely than he normally…

Oh, of course. She'd almost forgotten. She was encouraging exactly that through their bond at the moment. It hadn't quite been her intention, of course. She _had _been attempting to simply encourage calm and rational thought. But it would seem, as a consequence, she'd begun to…

"You know, I kinda sounded…Vulcan there for a minute." Trip frowned.

"Indeed." She smirked. "I almost found you somewhat attractive, Commander. Perhaps we should do this more frequen-…"

T'Pol stopped, surprised at herself.

_Wait…what was…?_

Trip snorted, smirking. "I guess it goes both ways, doesn't it?"

T'Pol considered. "Apparently. Perhaps we are simply not yet experienced enough with this form of…"

"Pardon me." Phlox said, a little anxiously. He smiled patiently. "I believe we may be losing sight of the issue here."

"Right." Trip said, quickly. "So…not an addiction. You didn't sneak off to the cargo bay to get a fix or anything. Someone's intentionally exposing you to Trellium."

"The logical conclusion." T'Pol agreed. "According to the levels Doctor Phlox has indicated, the likelihood of accidental exposure being responsible becomes negligible."

"We have some other issues that will need to be addressed here." Trip frowned. "From what you've said, you may be facing a court martial, T'Pol. Especially considering you were suffering from this while in you were in command of the Enterprise. At Azati Prime."

"Indeed." T'Pol said, only slightly discomfited. "I have considered that but was unable, until now, to face that prospect."

"And you might be looking at a little trouble yourself, doc." Trip warned. "Maybe T'Pol should have informed the Captain, or at least stepped down when faced with assuming command, but there are actions you should have taken as well."

Phlox stiffened up, uncomfortably. "Commander, whatever Starfleet regulations may say, as a physician I have a responsibility to protect the confidentiality…"

"I get that, doc." Trip nodded. "But you're talking as a _Denobulan _physician. Not a Starfleet physician. Starfleet has some pretty strict regulations concerning this sort of thing. You should have relieved T'Pol of duty and informed the Captain. And _he _should have ordered an investigation, to determine if charges needed to be brought against T'Pol."

"Well, perhaps if Starfleet wishes to…" Phlox argued, sternly.

"Okay…look. Both of you." Trip interrupted. "That's a problem we just can't deal with right now. Our priority here is T'Pol's health first. I'm just making sure we all understand that will have to be dealt with."

"I understand." T'Pol said. "And I am prepared to face the consequences."

"Okay, then." Trip said, seriously. "I don't think I'm going to like that at all later, when you let me get good and upset about it. But for now I think that's the smart thing to do."

"I would also point out that my career with Starfleet may suffer already from other considerations. Namely my responsibilities to Elizabeth."

"Well, there's a certain stigma that comes with being court martialed, T'Pol." Trip pointed out. "I think you're taking that a little lightly. And as for our careers, we haven't even discussed that yet."

"I care little at the moment for the prospect of a court martial." T'Pol insisted. "As I've said, I will face the consequences of my actions. It would not be logical to do otherwise. And as for our careers, we may discuss yours later. But I consider my own to be a secondary concern in relation to Elizabeth's requirements."

"T'Pol…" Trip argued.

"Trip, I am Vulcan." She said, firmly. "My mate and my children will come first. I would accept nothing else. That should not suggest there is no room in my life for a career of any sort, but it will remain a secondary concern. And Starfleet requires more than I am able to give, if I am to meet my duties as mate and mother."

Trip considered her. Calmly, of course.

"T'Pol, I'm finding a lot here to argue about. But I can't help but recognize we really should have done this a long time ago."

"I agree." T'Pol said. "We should have. But I have allowed myself to be ruled by fear, and for too long. So it was not possible before now. However, as Phlox has suggested, perhaps we are being _too _rational concerning these matters. We should return our focus to the matter at hand, as emotion would otherwise have prompted us to."

"Right." Trip said, realizing. "Is there some form of detox you can do here, Phlox?"

"Oh, certainly." Phlox said, happy to be included in the conversation directly again. "I considered a few new techniques since…well, since this came to my attention…"

"Okay, so let's do that." Trip said. "_Now_. If that's alright with everyone. I don't like the idea of that stuff just eating away at her neural pathways, while we're sitting around talking about it."

"While we do that, Lieutenant Reed should be informed." T'Pol continued. "He would wish to be notified immediately, considering the obvious threat this situation suggests."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Phlox smiled, looking over that sickbay doors. Where Malcolm Reed stood, his body turned toward them but his attention squarely on Crewman Rossi across the room. Where she played with Elizabeth.

"Well, speak of the devil." Trip said, calling him over to them. "Malcolm! You mind?"

He stepped over, turning his attention back to them. Pretty smartly, in fact.

"Tucker." He said, seriously, once he'd arrived. "If you could spare a moment…"

"Lieutenant Reed, I'm sorry." Trip said. "We've got a problem that I think you need to be aware of."

That brought Malcolm up short. Especially as Trip seemed to be acting a little strangely. He was…calm. And serious. He wasn't even speaking with any notable southern accent, as he usually did when he got excited.

And…_'Lieutenant Reed'?_ Really?

But however odd that might be…Rossi was right over there. _With the baby_.

"Trip…" Malcolm started, glancing back at Rossi for a quick moment, suddenly unsure of himself...

"It looks like someone poisoned T'Pol with Trellium. We're still not exactly sure…"

"What?" Malcolm interrupted, jerking his attention back to them. Then at Phlox, demanding. "When did this happen?"

Phlox shrugged apologetically. "We're not certain but, judging from the amount of Trellium in Commander T'Pol's system, it would have to have been something more than merely a passing exposure. Perhaps someone laced food or drink with a Trellium distillate. Or an actual hypospray, though I can't imagine how T'Pol would not have noticed that…"

Crewman Rossi had begun to wander back over…with Elizabeth still at her shoulder. Leaving Malcolm little choice.

"Trip." He said, quickly. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm realize this is important, but there's something I have to speak to you about. Right now…"

Malcolm turned to Rossi, as she arrived.

And he smiled.

"Crewman, would you mind?" He asked, reaching out for the baby. "I'm afraid I haven't had a spare moment to introduce myself properly."

"Oh, sure." Rossi grinned, handing Elizabeth over.

And so Elizabeth reached immediately for Malcolm's face when he brought her to his chest, to grab and stare at him for a moment. Then smack his cheeks with an appreciative babble.

Rossi chuckled. "Some kind of Vulcan thing, I gather. Did you get the little jolt in your head, Lieutenant?"

She twirled one finger near here temple, grinning at him.

"Um…yes, I suppose I did." Malcolm said, uncomfortably. "Is that normal, T'Pol?"

"Indeed it is." T'Pol said. "There is no cause for concern. But may I ask what you wish to discuss with Commander Tucker? As it happens, we are currently occupied…"

"I'm afraid it's something of a personal matter, Commander." He said, tucking Elizabeth safely to one shoulder. "And, if you'll pardon me, rather urgent."

"I see." T'Pol said, curiously.

"Alright, Mal." Trip said, seriously. "I'll be back in a moment, T'Pol."

And he was up, letting go of T'Pol's hand…causing Malcolm to finally realize, with some astonishment, that they had in fact been holding hands. In public, right there in front of him.

Which…wasn't quite as important as everything else going on just now… but seemed worthy enough of a double take nonetheless.

But Trip was up and Elizabeth was in his custody, so he stepped quickly _away _to draw him after, to the far side of the sickbay. And when Trip arrived, a moment behind, began speaking quietly and urgently, even as he held Elizabeth firmly to his chest.

She being, of them all, the one requiring his protection the most. Far and above everyone else present.

"Trip." He said, speaking low. "Don't look or turn your head. Just listen."

Trip's brow furrowed with confusion…but he was listening intently.

"There _is _a Terra Prime agent on board. Commander Granger's confirmed it. And we know who it is." Malcolm said. "Don't turn your head or react in any way. Just focus on me. But it's Crewman Rossi."

Trip's eyes flickered, and he didn't relax at all…but he didn't look over. And he was at least trying not to react noticeably.

"Now, when I hand the baby over, you leave the room." Malcolm continued. "Don't wait, just go. I'll take care of…"

Something crashed across the room, forcing them both to jerk around to look. Despite that being precisely what they'd otherwise been busy with _not _doing.

Because T'Pol was screaming, in Vulcan. And holding Crewman Rossi in the air by one hand.

That hand wrapped tightly around her throat. The other balled tightly into a trembling fist, ready and eager to strike.


End file.
